954 

99 
mtc 


Mice  and  Men 


MADELEINE  LUCETTE  RYLEY 


SAMUEL  FRENCH,  28-30  West  38th  St.,  New  York 


MICE    AND    MEN. 


A  Romantic  Comedy  In  Four  Actt. 


MADELEINE  LUCETTE  RYLEY. 

»  I 


COPYRIGHT,  1909,  BY  MADELEINE  LUCETTE  RYLEE 


CAUTION, — Amateurs  and  Professionals  are  hereby  warned  that  "Mice 
and  Men,"  being  fully  protected  under  the  copyright  laws  of  the 
United  States,  is  subject  to  a  royalty,  and  any  one  presenting  the 
play  without  the  consent  of  the  author  or  her  authorized  agent,  will 
be  liable  to  the  penalties  by  law  provided.  Application  for  the 
right  to  produce  "Mice  and  Men"  must  be  made  to  SAMUEL  FRENCH, 
28-30  West  38th  Street,  New  York  City. 

All  rights  reserved 


NEW  YORK 
SAMUEL  FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

28-30  WEST  38TH  STREET 


LONDON 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  LTD. 

26  SOUTHAMPTON  ST. 

STRAND 


MICE   AND  MEN. 

Produced  at  the  Lyric  Theatre,  January  P?ih,  190^ 


CHARACTERS* 

Mark     Embnry     (A    scholar, 

scientist,  and  philosopher)  ...  MB.  FORBES  ROBKRTSO* 
Roger  Goodlake  (Hit  friend 

and  wiy.ibour)        MR.  LUIGI  LABLAOHB 

Captain    George  Lovell    (His 

nephew)        ME.  BEN  WKBSTBB 

Sir  Harry  Trimblestone        ...  MR.  LEON  QUARTBRMAHTB 
Kit  Barniger  (A  fiddler  and  a 

professor  of  deportment)     ...  MR.  J.  H.  RYLBY 
Peter  (Embury's  servant)       ...  MR.  WILLIAM  FULKBN, 
Joanna    Goodlake    (Wife    of 

Goodlake)      Miss  ALICE  DB  WINTOH 

Mrs.  Deborah  (Embury's  house- 
keeper)           Miss  CARLINGFORD 

Pej?gy  ("Little  Britain")    ...  Miss  GERTRUDE  ELLIOTI 
Matron    (Of    the    Foundling 

Hospital)      Miss  MINNIE  GRIJTUT 

Beadle      (Of     the     Foundling 

Hospital)      MB.  ERNEST  CORHAM 

Molly  (A  kitchen  maid)        ...  Miss  EDITH  FENCHESTIB 


PLAGB  :  Old  Hmmpstead.  PX&IOD  :  About 


PREFACE, 


(from  fh*  SATURDAY  REVIEW,  February  15*fc,  1902.) 

I  air  grateful  to  Mrs.  Madeleine  Lucette  Ryley  fof 
haying  written  "Mice  and  Men,"  and  to  Mr.  Forbei 
Robertson  for  having  produced  it.  It  is  a  play  which  I 
have  long  awaited  —  so  long  awaited  that  I  had  begun  to  fear 
it  would  never  be  vouchsafed.  For  years  I  have  been  sneer- 
ing at  every  sentimental  play  that  has  been  produced,  and 
thus  (I  fear)  alienating  the  majority  of  you,  my  readers. 
Doubtless,  you  have  come  to  regard  me  as  a  creature  with  a 
heart  of  stone,  as  a  ruthless  brute,  quite  impervious  to  anj 
•oft  appeal,  quite  incapable  of  delight  in  the  presentment  of 
aught  but  what  is  grim  and  terrible.  And  I,  all  the  while, 
have  known  my  heart  to  be  really  an  up-welling  spring  of 
the  most  limpid  sentiment,  undiscovered  only  because  no 
Dramatist  had  come  by  with  a  divining  rod.  All  the  while 
I  have  been  beset  with  an  ardent,  unsatisfied  desire  for  the 
bread  and  butter,  the  buttercups  and  daisies,  of  drama  —  for 
fresh  butter,  nicely  spread  on  new  bread  nicely  cut,  foi 
field  flowers  really  a-growing  and  a-blowing.  At  length 
Airs.  Ryley  has  given  me  the  things  I  wanted,  and  with 
them  the  chance  of  disproving  myself  a  monster.  You  who 
have  misjudged  me,  behold  me  dancing  with  all  the  grace  of 
true  joy  among  the  real  buttercups  and  daisies,  and  swallow* 
ing  the  good  bread  and  butter  like  a  hungry,  healthy  child. 

The  middle-aged  doctrinaire  who  was  once  crossed  in  love, 
but  who  has  at  length  decided  that  it  is  his  duty  to  marry 
and  beget  an  heir—  what  playgoer  does  not  know  him  1 
What  playgoer  does  not  know  that  he  will,  in  a  cold  and 
calculating  way,  select  from  the  lower  class  some  healthy 
and  very  young  girl  who,  after  she  has  been  educated  for 
a  certain  number  of  years  according  to  an  ideal  system,  will 
be  in  a  position  to  marry  him  and  in  due  course  supply  him 
with  a  paragon  worthy  to  carry  on  the  traditions  of  hi* 
family  ?  Who  does  not  know  that  he  will,  after  the  due  lap«« 
of  years,  realise  that  he  loves  his  intended  bride  madly, 
do/i'Ujdly?  Who  does  not  know  that,  when  at  length  hi 
his  proposal  to  her,  he  will  make  it  so  delicately  thai 


664 


PRBFA09. 

4ne  will  imagine  that  he  is  asking  her  to 
nephew — the  young  and  joyous  soldier,  who  is  her  idea  , 
•ven  as  she  is  his  I  And  who  does  not  foresee  the  end — tit* 
middle-aged  doctrinaire,  cloaked  and  hatted,  faltering  slowly 
down  the  garden  path,  opening  the  wicket,  and  turning,  ere 
he  utterly  eiTaces  himself,  an  almost  happy  smile  towaidi 
the  house — the  house  that  was  to  have  been  his  and  hors— 
from  which  are  wafted  the  strains  of  "  My  love  is  like  a  red, 
red  rose,"  sung  as  a  duet  by  the  two  young  people  ?  This 
is  a  story  that  must  have  been  exploited  in  a  score  of 
•entiraental  books  and  sentimental  plays.  In  real  life,  of 
course  it  would  be  impossible.  But  these  objections  to  '  *  Mic« 
and  Men  "  are  made  by  me  merely  in  cold  blood  :  I  had  no 
glimmer  of  them  during  the  play's  procedure.  I  surrendered 
whole-heartedly,  taking  the  play  for  all  it  was  worth,  smiling 
and  sighing  and  brushing  away  tears  with  the  best  of  them. 
The  reason  why  I  was  able  to  enjoy  the  sentiment  and 
sentimentality  of  this  play  is  simply  that  Mrs.  Ryley  has  a 
genuine  talent  for  sentimental  comedy.  Sense  of  humour 
has  not  been  denied  to  Mrs  Ryley.  It  prevents  her  from 
•ver  becoming  maudlin.  Her  sentiment  is  always  airy  and 
wholesome.  Moreover,  she  can  write.  What  a  relief,  after 
that  illiterate  slush  to  which  we  have  so  long  been  accustomed 
to  find  dialogue  that  is  really  like  human  speech,  yet  terser 
and  more  distinguished  than  human  speech  ! 

Even  by  mere  reason  of  its  literary  style,  "Mice  and 
Men  "  is  delightful,  and  rare  among  plays. 

But  the  chief  ingredient  of  its  delightful  rarity  is. that  it  is  a 
fairy  story  conceived  in  a  sincere  spirit — a  fairy  story  in 
which  I  o 


•MICE  AND  MEN.* 

ACT   L 

Apr*, 

SCENE.  — MARK  EMBURY'S  study ;  a  low  raftered, 

room  ;  a  casement  window  at  back  c.  open,  with  vines  trained 
round  the  outside  ;  at  R.  l»t  E.  a  door  with  a  brass  disc  and 
a  small  catch  to  indicate  a  spring  lock  ;  the  furniture  is  plain 
to  severity ;  two  or  three  straight-backed  wooden  chairs* 
writing-table  up  R.o.  ;  rough  cabinet  at  L.  ;  small  wooden 
bench  at  L.  ;  rough  shelves  with  scientific  books  ;  a  draughts- 
man's table  upper  L.  with  carpenter's  tools  ;  some  stuffed 
animals  and  birds  on  shelves  ;  maps  and  charcoal  drawings 
on  walls;  globular  charts,  etc.,  on  writing  table;  an  oblonf 
kitchen-table  with  drawer  at  R.  end  down  near  o.  ;  table  has 
on  it  implements  for  chemical  experiments,  etc. ;  also  a  small 
spirit  lamp,  burning  ;  table  is  placed  at  a  slight  angle  in  tht 
direction  of  the  door  ;  the  floor  is  bare. 

At  rise  of  curtain  PETER  in  tidying  the  room  with  the  aid  of 
a  mop ;  presently  there  is  a  knocking  at  the  door  ;  PETER 
looks  up,  but  continues  to  sweep  towards  the  bench; 
the  knock  is  repeated  impatiently ;  PETER  leans  the  mop 
against  bench,  crosses  slowly  to  R.,  releases  the  catch  and 
opens  door ;  MRS.  DEBORAH,  a  portly  dame,  appears 
on  the  threshold ;  she  wears  cap  and  a  black  apron. 

MRS.  D.  (impatiently)  Peter,  I  vow  you  are  worse  than  ft 
scullery  wench  when  it  comes  to  wasting  my  precious  time. 
I  want  that  mop.  (she  takes  a  step  forward) 

PETER,  (waving  her  back)  Bide  there,  and  I'll  bring  it  to 
you.  (fetches  it.)  This  be  sacred  ground  up  here,  and  house- 
keeper! is  forbidden  to  trespass,  (bows  ironically) 

MRS.  D.  (snatching  the  mop)  Drat  your  impudence.  One'd 
suppose  I  was  a  kitchen  wench  instead  of  being  a  reduced 
gentlewoman  with  a  line  of  forbears. 

PETER.  That's  the  point.  You  be  a  gentletooman,  not  ft 
gentleman,  and  Mr.  Embury  cannot  abide  a  petticoat* 
(lowers  his  voice.)  It's  been  said  that  a  burnt  child  dreads  th« 
fire,  Mrs.  Deborah,  and  I've  heard  it  put  about  that  some 
years  ago  a  lady  of  fashion 

MRS.  D.  Tut,  man,  it's  beneath  a  woman  of  my  family  to 
listen  to  idle  gossip,  (quickly)  Would  she  be  light  or  dark* 


•  MICE  AND  MEN, 

think  yout  (PETSR  shcJces  his  head  and  turns  to  o.)  1 
warrant  she  was  one  of  your  gay  fly-by  nights.  Philosophers 
always  take  to  that  kind,  just  to  balance  their  wisdom,  and 
keep  them  fools  same  as  the  rest  of  mankind. 

PETER.  Not  so  Icud,  Mrs.  D.;  the  master's  gone  but  to  th« 
garden  gate  with  his  nephew^  Captain  Lovell.  (he  spies  « 
email  object  on  the  floor  ;  he  picks  it  up,  goes  to  the  window  and 
examines  it) 

MRS.  D.  (following  him  by  R.  of  table  R.)  What  is  it  you'vt 
found,  Peter  t  It  looks  like  a  woman's  miniature,  (edges 
nearer  to  get  a  glimpse  of  it ;  he  places  it  behind  his  back) 
Who  could  haye  dropped  it,  think  you  ? 

PETER.  Nay,  Mrs.  Deborah,  if  I  were  to  tell  you  what  I 
think,  why,  then  you'd  be  as  wise  as  I.  (looks  out)  Quick  I 
Mr.  Embury's  coming  back  with  Captain  Lovell.  No,  'tain't 
the  Captain  who's  with  him  now,  but  Mr.  Goodlake.  (hustle* 
her  to  door) 

MRS.  D.  (going  out)  I'll  not  break  my  neck,  not  I,  for  all 
the  men  in  Christendom,  (exit) 

PETER  looks  at  the  locket,  hesitates;  thent  hearing  voice* 
outside,  puts  it  in  his  pocket. 

EMBURY  (outside)  Careful,  neighbour,  the  steps  are 
shallow. 

Enter  MARK  EMBURY,  followed  by  ROGER  QOODLAKI  ; 
EMBURY  is  plainly  dressed,  almost  to  asceticism ;  his 
hair,  which  is  somewhat  long,  is  without  powder  and 
tied  with  a  ribbon ;  he  is  about  forty-two  years  old,  and 
has  a  grave  but  kindly  manner ;  GOODLAKE  is  about 
fifty-five  ;  he  is  fashionably  clothed  in  a  juvenile  manner  ; 
he  wears  powder,  etc.,  and  carries  himself  in  a  vigorous 
and  sprightly  fashion  ;  he  speaks  emphatically  and  in  a 
loud  voice  ;  EMBURY  crosses  behind  table  to  chair  L.  of 
table. 

GOOD,  (panting  for  breath)  A  devilish  staircase,  Embury, 
and  better  than  the  family  Bible  for  discovering  a  man's  real 
age.  (looks  round  the  room)  Strike  me  if  it  isn't  the  old  hay- 
loft, you've  turned  into  a  study  !  What's  the  meaning  on't  f 

EMBURY.  Tis  merely  a  device  to  ensure  a  stricter  privacy. 
My  work  has  suffered  much  from  interruption  of  late. 

PETBR  brings  a  tobacco  jar  from  cabinet  upper  L.,  then 
pipes  ;  he  places  them  beside  GOODLAKK,  who  proceeds 
to  fill  pipe  ;  PITER  retire*  up  &.  to  table  ;  QOODLAKI 
Mil  oft  chair  &.  <tf  table  B. 


MICE  AND  MEN. 

GOOD.  Gad  I  I  remember.  Joanna  has  told  me  something 
Concerning  the  arrival  of  a  housekeeper,  (laugh*)  Mark 
Embury,  the  hermit,  with  a  female  flunkey  in  his  retinue. 
Oh  Lord,  we'll  make  a  man  of  fashion  out  of  you  yet.  But 
what  has  set  the  ball  a  rolling  ? 

EMBURY.  All  in  good  time,  Roger,  (turn*  and  goes  up  o.) 
Get  you  below,  Peter.  You  may  leave  the  door  open,  Th« 
draught  will  scatter  the  fumes  of  Friend  Qoodlake's  ungodly 
weed,  (exit  PETER  R  carrying  off  pail  and  duster) 

GOOD,  (laying  pipe  aside)  I'm  not  much  in  the  humour  for 
It  to-day.  In  truth  I'm  vexed — sorely  —  damnably  vexed  1 
About  a  lost  miniature.  A  portrait  of  Joanna.  The  hand- 
•omest  woman  in  Europe,  though  she  is  my  wife.  I  could 
have  taken  oath  I  left  it  in  my  cabinet  when  I  set  out  on  my 
journey  six  weeks  ago.  (EMBURY  tits  in  chair  L.  of  table  c) 

EMBURY.  I  trust  you  find  your  lady  in  flourishing 
health. 

GOOD,  (enthusiastically)  Fresh  as  a  newly  opened  rose,  and 
uncommon  pleased  at  my  return.  I  wager  'tis  not  every 
truant  spouse  who  receives  so  hearty  a  welcome. 

EMBURY.  Tis  not  every  one  who  deserves  it. 

GOOD  True,  though  I'll  take  no  credit.  When  a  man 
possesses  a  pink — a  pearl — a  paragon — (pauses  irresolutely)  I 
could  sometimes  wish  Joanna  were  a  little  less  vivacious, 
though  it  is  not  unnatural  in  one  of  her  years,  (lights  pip* 
•fain) 

EMBURY.  Do  not  lay  on  Nature  the  faults  of  Society, 
friend  Roger.  If  women  are  in  general  feeble  in  body  and 
in  mind,  it  is  the  fault  of  our  modern  education ;  we 
encourage  a  vicious  indolence,  which  we  call  delicacy.  We 
teach  them  useless  arts.  We  breed  them  to  insincerity,  and 
then  we  wonder  at  their  fickleness  and  duplicity,  (rises  and 
goes  up  c.) 

GOOD.  Ah,  I'd  forgotten,  I  was  putting  a  spur  to  your 
hobbyhorse.  You  are  for  training  the  youngsters  like 
•avagea  in  a  hut. 

EMBURY,  (coming  down  o  again)  I'd  have  them  instructed 
to  simplicity,  and  Nature  is  the  only  dame  who  teaches  it. 

GOOD,  (shaking  his  head)  I  had  a  relative  who  put  the 
Scheme  into  practice,  with  but  poor  result. 

EMBURY.  He  started  too  late,  maybe. 

GOOD.  Ye  Gods  !  The  child  was  but  three  weeks  old. 

EMBURY.  Much  too  late.  He  should  have  begun  with  the 
mother.  To  make  great  men,  one  must  first  perfect  a 
Woman,  (going  up  c.) 

GOOD,  (boisterously)  Gad !  Of  all  your  might/  tiu»orie% 
*ia  the  beat  yet. 


•  HICK  AND  mar. 

EMBTTEY.  (at  back  of  table  R.)  Suppose  I  told  yon  It  wai 
my  design  to  put  it  to  the  proof  ? 

GOOD,  (laying  down  hit  pipe  in  astonishment)  Mr.  Embury, 
I  should  say  you  had  gone  mad — stark,  staring  mad. 

EMBURY,  (laying  a  hand  on  GOODLAKE'S  shoulder)  Nay, 
dear  friend,  I  am  sound  enough,  and  being  sound  it  is  my 
dttty  to  perpetuate  my  race.  If  I  can  perform  that  duty 
scientifically,  I  satisfy  a  rational  curiosity,  the  result  of 
which  may  be  a  permanent  benefit  to  mankind. 

GOOD.  So  you'd  marry  for  an  experiment,  eh  t 

EMBURY.  All  men  marry  for  an  experiment,  friend,  though 
they  haven't  all  my  altruistic  excuse. 

GOOD.  Whate'er  the  excuse,  'tis  a  venture  that's  hedged 
with  disappointment. 

EMBURY.  Because  passion  is  allowed  to  replace  judgment. 

GOOD.  True,  but  damme  if  I  can  see  where  you  art 
better  equipped  for  the  game  than  the  rest  of  us. 

EMBURY,  (smiling)  One  who  has  already  passed  through 
the  measles  will,  it  is  popularly  believed,  be  thereafter 
impervious  to  the  disease.  My  love  days  are  passed,  old 
friend  ;  ergo,  (smiles)  I  am  ripe  for  marriage. 

GOOD,  (laughing)  And  the  required  attributes  of  the 
future  Mrs.  Embury  1 

EMBURY.  She  must  have  a  taste  for  the  sciences  ;  be 
•haste,  but  not  prudish ;  simple  as  a  mountain  maid ; 
fearlea*  as  the  Spartan  wives— in  short,  with  all  the  virtue! 
•f  her  sex,  and  none  of  its  weaknesses. 

GOOD.  Lord  above  us  1  And  where  are  you  going  to  find 
the  creature  1 

EMBURY.  It  is  a  discovery  that  I  have  long  despaired  of, 
and  so,  as  I  have  intimated,  it  is  my  intention  to  begin  with 
the  raw  material.  But  the  thing's  as  good  as  done,  (takes 
•  letter  from  the  table  at  back)  Through  my  attorney  I'vo 
made  application  to  the  directors  of  the  Foundling  Hospital. 
Here  is  their  reply,  (hand*  letter  to  GOODLAKK,  and  sits  on 
chair  L.  of  table) 

Goo».  (reading)  "  Dear  Sir,— The  htgh  moral  probity  of 
your  philanthropic  client  is  too  widely  known  to  admit  of  a 
coubt  as  to  his  honourably  discharging  his  avowed  inten- 
tions. On  his  agreeing  to  the  conditions  herein  imposed  wo 
will  send,  in  charge  of  our  Matron  and  the  Beadle,  several 
girls,  from  among  whom  he  may  choose  a  ward."  (laying 
foper  on  ths  table)  What  are  the  conditions  t 

EMBT*Y.  (reading  from  another  sheet)  "Should  the  said 
Vark  Embury  renounce  his  intention  of  marrying  his  ward 
»•  '  ••!!  of  suitable  age,  he  must  bequeath  to  her  an  adequate 
Secondly,  a  nurse,  governess,  or  female  ou«u>cu*a 


MICE  AOT)  HIM.  T 

ef  respectable  antecedents  must  be  engaged  to  reside  IB  the 

house,  to  preserve  the  social  amenities." 

GOOD.  That  then  explains  the  Housekeeper. 

EMBURY,  (nodding)  A  lady  of  a  prodigious  pedigree.  (r§- 
irumes  reading)  "  Thirdly,  the  girl  must  be  apprenticed  to  a 
married  man,  residing  in  the  vicinity,  who  will  give  bonds  for 
the  fulfilment  of  conditions  one  and  two." 

GOOD.  And  where  in  all  Hampstead  are  you  going  to  find 
Ibis  accomplice  to  your  cracked -brained  scheme  I 

EMBURY.   (ri$ing)  He  is  already  found. 

GOOD.  H'm — I  warrant  he's  not  respectable. 

EMBURY,  (going  behind  table  K.)  His  name  is  the  synonym 
for  all  the  virtues. 

GOOD.  The  devil  it  is  I 

EMBURY.  His  language  is  apt  to  trip  when  he  is  heated, 
but  he  is  a  most  worthy  gentleman  and  they  call  him 
Roger  Goodlake.  (patting  him  on  shoulder.) 

GOOD,  (rising  with  a  bunt  of  passion)  But  damme  f  I  won't 
doit. 

EMBURY.  (L.  of  table,  smiling)  You've  done  it.  Tour  name 
has  been  accepted,  and  it  is  your  proud  privilege  to  assist  in 
the  selection  of  my — of  our — ward,  (looks  at  his  watch  and 
comes  down  L.)  The  samples  will  be  arriving  shortly. 

GOOD.  By  Gad,  Mr.  Embury,  this  is  a  pretty  advantage  to 
take  of  a  man  in  his  absence.  It's — it's — monstrous  !  (hit 
passion  gradually  subsides  into  a  chuckle)  Monstrous  absurd. 
(tils)  Oh  Lord  !  Training  up  a  child  on  Philosophic  pap,  or 
•very  Gentleman  his  own  Wife-raiser,  (laughs)  I  trust 
you'll  deck  her  in  becoming  loin  clothes.  Ha-ha-ha  1 

EMBURY  Nay,  do  not  scoff,  Roger,  for  never  was  a  man 
•aore  earnest,  or  more  hopeful  than  I. 

GOOD.  But  it's  your  stupendous  audacity,  thinking  to  re- 
mould a  bit  of  human  nature,  and/emuZe  human  nature  at 
that. 

KMBURY.  As  the  twig  is  bent  the  tree  is  formed. 

GOOD.  Bending  the  twig  will  never  make  a  willow  of  a 
poplar.  Is  it  your  plan  to  inform  the  girl  as  to  your  ultimate 
intention  ? 

EMBURY.  No.  That  had  best  remain  a  secret  for  the  pre- 
sent, (goes  doicnL.c.  to  seat  L.) 

GOOD.  Then  I'll  not  tell  Joanna,  (rising  and  crossing  to  0.) 
Lord  !  That  reminds  me  I'm  intrusted  with  a  commission. 
It  concerns  your  nephew.  Captain  Lovell.  Joanna,  whose 
maternal  instinct  is  surprising  in  one  of  her  years,  has,  it 
seems,  had  her  sympathies  aroused  on  behalf  of  your  scape* 
grace. 

EMJJUKY  goes  to  bookcase  /or  book,  t&en  fit*  **  I» 


8  MCE  AND  MXH. 

EMBCRY.  How  comes  Mrs.  Goodlake  to  bt  acquainted  with 
my  nephew's  supposed  injuries  t 

GOOD  She  has  it  from  her  cousin,  Sir  Harry  Trimblestone* 
that  Lovell  is  being  plaguily  ill  used  by  you,  in  consequence 
of  some  scrape  the  youngster  has  fallen  into,  and  her  tender 
heart  is  for  pleading  him  a  pardon. 

EMBURY,  (coldly)  I  regret  having  to  deny  aught  to  a  lady 
— and  your  wife,  but  Captain  Lorell  received  my  ultimatum 
in  this  room,  scarce  half  an  hour  ago. 

GOOD.  By  your  look  there  is  more  behind  the  fence. 
TV  hat's  he  been  after  ?  (smiles)  Is  it  a  woman,  think 
you? 

EMBURY  (rising  gravely).  I  fancy  there  is  generally  a 
woman,  friend  Roger. 

GOOD  (chuckling)  Lord,  you're  right.  But  how  'twould 
•hock  Joanna.  I  wonder  who  is  the  baggage  t 

PETKR  appearing  at  door. 

PETER.  Mistress  Goodlake  (GOODLAKE  turns  to  PETER)  de- 
sires to  know  whether  she  may  venture  to  intrude. 
EMBURY.  Beg  her  to  come  up. 

PETER  withdraws.     EMBURY  pacts  up  and  down.     He  is 
down  L.  as  JOANNA  enters. 

GOOD,  (proudly)  Mark  you,  Embury,  she  cannot  bear  me 
out  of  her  sight  for  ten  minutes,  (quickly)  Perhaps  she  has 
found  the  miniature,  (got*  excitedly  through  door  and  speaks 
outsidt)  Be  careful,  my  love.  Tis  a  devil  of  staircase  for 
beauty's  feet  to  climb.  Take  my  hand — so.  (he  leads  JOANNA 
in  ;  she  is  about  twenty-eight,  fashionably  dressed,  and  with  an 
air  of  supreme  vanity.  GOODLAKE  kisses  her  hand.) 

JOANNA,  (in  front  of  door,  pettishly)  There,  there,  Mr. 
Goodlake.  You  all  but  stepped  on  my  gown,  (curtseys  to 
EMBURY)  So  polite  of  you  to  allow  me  to  come  up.  (look* 
round)  And  what  a  sweet,  romantic  place.  (EMBURY  bows 
coldly.  JOANNA  goes  o.) 

GOOD.  (R.  impatiently)  You're  brought  news  of  the 
miniature,  Joanna  ? 

JOANNA,  (petulantly)  The  miniature  !  Will  you  never  hav« 
d«re  harping  on  that  miniature.  It  has  probably  been  cast 
on  thn  heath  with  the  carpet  shaking.  What  think  you, 
Mr.  Embury  1  IB  it  not  poor  taste  in  him  to  regret  so  much 
the  portrait  when  he  still  has  the  original  1 

EMBURY.  'Tis  not  uncommon  in  man,  madam,  to  prize  an 
object  out  of  all  proportion  to  iu  worth,  (down  L.)  Will  yo» 
be  seated  t 


MICE  AND  MEN.  9 

JOINW A.  (meeringly)  You  are  vastly  politt,.  sir.  (tits  R  of 
table)  It  seems  as  if  Mr.  Goodlake  had  been  gone  an  age,  so 
desolate  have  I  been  in  his  absence. 

GOOD.  (at  her  R.  teasingly)  What  of  the  trips  to  Ranelagh, 
that  Harry  let  on  to  t 

JOANNA.  Fie,  Mr.  Goodlake.  Your  credulity  is  amazing. 
I  protest  I  scarce  left  the  house. 

GOOD.  By  the  way,  I  have  mentioned  to  Mr.  Embury  your 
concern  for  his  black  sheep  of  a  nephew.  (EMBURY  sits  at  L.) 

JOANNA,  (shocked)  My  concern  !  Mr.  Goodlake,  you  do  not 
word  it  very  circumspectly.  If  I  seek  to  intercede,  Lord 
knows  'tis  in  a  motherly  sense,  (sighs)  You'll  not  bj  too 
•evere  on  him,  Mr.  Embury.  Tis  all  the  fault  of  his 
creditors,  (quickly,  in  answer  to  EMBURY'S  questioning  look) 
At  least,  so  Harry  tells  me. 

EMBURY.  I  think  you  implied  just  now  that  your  cousin'i 
Word  was  not  reliable. 

JOANNA.  Not  where  we  poor  women  are  concerned 
perhaps.  But  Captain  Lovell  is  quite  another  matter. 
Since  he  has  incurred  your  displeasure,  it  most  wrings  my 
heart  to  see — (EMBURY  turn*  quickly)  I  mean  —to  hear  of  hia 
dejection. 

EMBURY.  He  has  an  opportunity  to  change  into  an  Irish 
regiment,  and  so  wean  himself  from  the  allurements  of  his 
present  surroundings. 

JOANNA,  (with  concern)  But  'twould  be  a  pity  for  him  to 
desert  so  bracing  a  climate  as  Hampstead.  Moreover  the 
Dublin  society  is  quite  notorious  for  its  immorality.  Surely 

Jou  will  not  cast  so  impetuous  a  youth— for  so  does  Harry 
escribe  him — in  the  way  of  temptation. 
GOOD.    Hark  to  her,  Embury,    (laughs)    I  swear  she'd 
mother  all  the  young  rascals  from  here  to  the  dockyard. 
Come,  what  do  you  say  1  (crosses  to  o.) 

EMBURY,  (significantly,  rising)  I  promise  Mrs.  Goodlake  to 
place  my  nephew  as  far  from  temptation  as  it  be  possible. 

MRS.  DEBORAH  appears  in  the  doorway. 

MRS,  D.  The  foundlings  are  arrived,  sir. 
EMBURY.  Conduct  them  here. 

MRS.  D.  retires ;  EMBURY  places  book  in  ease  and  comet 
down  L.  ;  foundlings  heard  tramping  off  R. 

GOOD,  (going  to  JOANNA  and  raising  her  up)  Here  is  balm 
for  yoat  maternal  soul,  Joanna.  Neighbour  Embury  is 
taking  a  girl  from  the  Foundling  to  train  and  educate. 

JOANNA,  (with  indifference)  A  girl  !  I  have  no  monstrous 
liking  for  girl*,  (goes  «f>  a  by  L.  «/  table  &.) 


10  MICE  AND  HUT. 

GOODLAKB  got*  to  EMBURY'S  R,  Enter  MBS.  DBBOBAH  | 
$h*  goes  up  to  JOANNA  o. 

BBADLK.  (heard  off}  Now  then,  get  into  line. 

Girls  heard  marking  time.  Enter  MATRON  of  the  Hospital 
followed  by  the  BEADLE,  a  pompous  little  man,  and  a 
tiring  of  the  girls,  ranging  from  eleven  to  sixteen  year* 
of  age. 

BBADLE.  Ready  to  atop — Stop ! 

The  girls  halt ;  they  are  of  various  complexions  and  are  all 
dressed  in  the  Foundling  uniform ;  some  have  closely 
cropped  heads  ;  the  tallest  have  their  hair  tightly  plaited 
excepting  LITTLE  BRITAIN,  who  comes  last  but  one  ;  her 
hair  is  in  curls  tied  back  ;  the  MATRON  arranges  tht 
girls  in  an  oblique  line,  then  turns  each  girl  to  facet 
finishing  up  with  number  ten,  occasionally  prodding  on* 
urith  her  umbrella ;  thi§  over,  the  BEADLB  waves  the 
MATRON  aside  and  steps  into  the  foreground  ;  LITTLB 
BRITAIN,  who  is  stationed  last  but  one  a.,  continually 
twitches  her  shoulders. 

BKADLE.  Now,  then  (to  girls)  Now  when  I  say  three,  show 
your  manners,  co-incidentally.  One — two — (one  girl  makes  an 
abrupt  curtsey)  Look  at  that.  There  be  a  pretty  piece  for  a 
object  of  charity.  (MATRON  shakes  her  umbrella  at  the  offender) 
Once  more.  One — two — three  1  (they  all  bob  together,  except 
last  at  right  end,  who  is  rubbing  her  eyes  with  the  corner  of  her 
apron.  The  BEADLB  thumps  his  stick  on  the  ground.  LITTLB 
BRITAIN  nudges  htr  neighbour,  who  furtively  slaps  her  in 
return,  then  bobs)  Well,  what  are  you  BO  subsequent!*! 
for? 

lOrn  G.  Please,  I've  got  something  in  my  eye. 

BBADLB.  Then  you've  no  business  to  have  things  in  youi 
•ye.  This  ain't  a  half  holiday.  (LITTLE  BRITAIN  jerks  her 
tfandders)  Number  nine,  stop  wriggling.  (MATRON  shakes  her 
wnbreila  wamingly.  BEADLE  turns)  Which  gentleman  is  the 
guardian  presumptive  ?  (EMBURY  bows)  Then,  sir,  the 
Inquisitorial  may  proceed,  (goes  down  R.)  For  their  healths 
and  constitutions  there's  Mrs.  Witchet.  (the  MATRON  curtseys) 
For  minds  and  morals,  here  is  me. 

EMBURY,  (steps  to  o.  then  turns.  To  GOODLAKE)  Go  you  for- 
ward, Roger,  and  question  the  maids. 

GOOD.  Nay,  go  you.     It  is  your  funeral,  not  mine. 

EMBURY,  (nervously)  I— I— f*ar  I  scare  know  how  to  put 
tfctrn  afc  their  MM. 


mo*  AND  MBI.  11 

GOOD.  Tis  easy  done,  (winks}  Watch  me.  (aoe»  to  tenth 
gvrl  at  B.  and  chucks  her  under  the  chin)  Damme,  but  you're* 
prodigious  fine  wench. 

JOANNA,  (peremptorily)  Mr.  Goodlake  1 

GOOD.  Coming,  Joanna,  my  love,   (he  goes  up  to  window.) 

EMBURY,  (timidly  going  to  1st  GIRL)  What  is  your  name, 
•bildl 

GIRL,  (with  a  bob)  Bevis  Marks. 

EMBURY,  (nervously)  Ah,  yes,  yes.  (moves  to  numbef 
two)  And  yours  1 

2ND  G.  (bobbing)  Stepney  Green.  (He  passes  along  the 
row  in  some  dismay.  As  his  eye  catche*  each  QIXL  she  bobs  m 
€wrtsey,  and  calls  out  her  name.) 

SRD  G.  Clare  Market. 


.  Highbury  Barn. 
.  Charing  Cross. 


CTH  G.  Ivy  Lane. 
?THG.  Great  Turnstile. 
ftraG.  Leicester  Fields. 
0rnG.  Little  Britain. 
lOrn  G.  Amen  Corner. 

EMBURY.  (Down  R.  in  astonishment)  Heavens  !  And  whe 
gave  you  those  names  ? 

ALL  G.  (Together,  suddenly,  in  a  mechanical  chant)  My 
Godfathers  and  Godmothers  in  my  baptism,  wherein  I  was 
made  - 

BEADLE  exclaims  violently  "'Ush!  'Ush!  'Ush!"  and 
pounds  with  his  stick  to  invoke  silence.  They  cease. 
GOODLAKE  comes  down  by  L.  of  BEADLE. 

BEADLE,  (to  EMBURY)  'Tis  our  Hospital's  custom  to  call 
them  after  the  localizations  they  come  from. 

GOOD.  (L.)  Hang  me,  if  it  isn't  monstrous  ingenious. 
Come,  Embury,  choose  your  district,  (lowers  his  voice.) 
Number  Five  suggests  an  equable  climate. 

MATRON.  A  trifle  weak  in  the  chest,  sir.  Whereas 
Leicester  Fields  is  —  (points  to  8th  GIRL.) 

BEADLE,  (waving  MATRON  aside  and  crossing  to  L.c.)  A 
healthy  tartar.  Take  my  advice,  sir,  don't  have  a  red-headed 
one.  Now  if  you  want  an  uncommon  fine  waif  you  can't  do 
better  than  Stepney  Green,  (moves  over  to  table  R.  and  point$ 
to  No.  2.) 

GOOD.  I  swear  her  countenance  would  assure  you 
Undisturbed  possession,  neighbour. 

EMBURY.  The  maid  next  the  end  there  appears  straight 
And  sound  of  limb,  (points  to  LITTLE  BRITAIN) 

MATRON,  (shaking  her  head)  Aye,  aha  '•  sound  enough. 


IS  MICE  AND  MEN. 

EMBURY.  Tli  an  engaging  face,  suggesting  many  possi- 
bilities. 

BE  IDLE.  A  mask  for  her  deviltries.  (LIITLK  BRITAIN  tun* 
her  profile) 

EMBURY.  Her  hair  is  longer  than  the  others. 

MATRON.  She'll  ne'er  stand  still  to  have  it  cropped. 

EMBURY.  Bid  her  come  hither.     (BEADLR  advances  to  o.) 

BEADLE.  Little  Britain  I  Ready  to  step  forward-  Step  I 
{he  goes  down  R.;  she  comes  to  0.  twitching  her  shoulder.) 

EMBURY.  How  old  are  you,  Little  Britain  ?  (she  mutely 
fiances  <U  BEADLE) 

BBADLB.  Sixteen,  sir. 

EMBURY.  You  are  tall  for  your  age.  Do  you  think  you 
would  like  to  live  here,  and  be  my  ward  t  (the  looks  at 
the  BEADLE) 

BXADLZ.  I  warrant  she'd  like  it  well  enough. 

EMBURY,  (to  LITTLE  BRITAIN)  Why  don't  you  reply  fot 
yourself. 

PEGGY,  (glancing  at  BEADLE)  He  likes  doing  it.  ($h* 
twitch  es  her  shoulder. 

GOOD.  She  seems  troubled  with  St.  Vitus'  dance.  'Tis  a 
malady  not  uncommon  in  the  young. 

EMBURY.  Tell  us,  have  you  long  been  afflicted  with  these 
twitchings  ?  (she  shakes  her  head)  Do  you  know  aught  of  the 
cause? 

PEGGY.  Yes.     There's  a  pin  sticking  in  my  back. 

EMBURY  turns  to  GOODLAKE  who  laughs  boisterously  j 
MATRON  places  her  umbrella  against  table,  goes  to 
LITTLE  B.  and  removes  pin. 

EMBURY.  She  appears  to  be  a  straightforward  and  simple 
eirl,  so  if  she  be  willing,  we  may  regard  the  matter  as  settled. 
(crosses  to  R.  o.  GOODLAKE  follows  ;  BEADLE  R.  produces  a 
document  which  he  hands  to  EMBURY,  who  glances  over  it  with 
GOODLAKE) 

MATRON,  (to  LITTLE  BRITAIN;  Hark  ye,  child,  to  your 
Tast  good  fortune.  (LITTLE  BRITAIN  puts  her  apron  to  her  eyes} 
There,  there,  you've  naught  to  fret  at.  Faith,  I  begin  to 
like  you  better  now  I'm  to  be  troubled  with  you  no  more. 
(draws  her  aside)  I've  got  somewhere  a  bright  new  sixpence. 
(feds  in  her  pocket)  Ah,  here  'tis,  (gives  it)  Remember  alwayg 
to  be  humble  to  your  betters  and  comb  your  hair  straight  at 
the  parting.  Now  give  me  a  kiss,  (embraces  her)  And 
promise  never  to  forget  that  you  had  the  honour  to  be 
brought  up  a  foundling,  (she  turns  to  the  girls  whom  aht 
arrange*  m  line  ready  fw  departure  with  facts  tinned  towards 


MICE  AND  ME».  18 

EMBURY.  Go  you,  Roger,  with  the  Beadle  and  Mai  th« 
•ontract.  (GoooLAKE  and  BEADLE  go  to  the  door) 

MATRON.  Mr.   Nole,  we're  waiting  for  the  word. 

BEADLE,  (turning)  Ready  to  march.  March  !  (exeunt 
BEADLE  and  GOODLAKB. 

The  MATRON  marshals  the  girls  round  by  L.  of  t&ble  ; 
they  bob  a  curtsey  to  EMBURY  as  they  pass ;  LITTLE 
BRITAIN  follows  them,  to  door  and  embraces  each  on* 
who  goes  out,  except  the  girl  who  has  slapped  her  ;  sh* 
returns  the  slap,  then  suddenly  repenting  she  emhracet 
her.  Exeunt  girls  and  MATRON  ;  LITTLE  B.  follows  to 
door  R. 

EMBURY,  (when  the  girls  are  all  off)  Come  here,  Little 
Britain,  (she  approaches  and  he  gazes  at  her  seriously)  I've  a 
mind  to  call  you  Peggy.  May  1 1  (she  nods)  'Tie  a  name  I 
much  admire.  Think  you  as  Guardian  and  ward  we  shall 
•uit? 

PEGGY,  (curtseying)  Yes,  sir,  I  think  you'll— you'll  do. 

EMBURY,  (smiling)  I  promise  to  earn  your  esteem  if  effort 
•an  secure  it.  (turns  to  c.) 

PEGGY,  (impulsively  seizing  his  hand)  And  you  won't  cut 
ofl  my  hair  ? 

EMBURY.  Nay,  I  think  not.  (withdraws  hit  hand)  You 
are  nervous,  Peggy.  We  must  practise  repose,  (leads  her  to 
bench)  A  few  passages  of  Homer  repeated  in  a  measured — 
but  I  fancy  you  are  not  acquainted  with  Homer. 

PEGGY.  Hom&r  1  It  it  anything  like  the  multiplication 
table? 

EMBURY,  (smiling)  They  are  not  altogether  dissimilar  in 
their  conclusions.  So  you  know  the  tables  f 

PEGGY.  Up  to  five  times  twelve. 

EMBURY.  Then  repeat  them  slowly  till  I  return.  Mrs. 
Deborah.  (MRS.  D.  comes  down  a  step)  This  is  my  ward.  I 
commend  her  to  your  good  care,  Mrs.  Goodlake.  (goes  to 
door)  I'll  not  be  long,  Peggy,  (exit ;  MRS.  D.  comes  down 
with  JoANNA/rom  behind  table) 

MRS.  D.  (looking  at  LITTLE  B.  from  R.  of  table]  A  sad 
tight,  ma'am. 

JOANNA,  (down  c.  staring  at  her)  It  puts  one  in  the 
Tapours  to  look  at  the  hapless  creature. 

MRS.  D.  She  has  a  sweet  face. 

JOANNA.  That'll  be  no  passport  to  her  keeper's  favour.  I 
warrant  he'll  make  her  do  penance  for  every  dimple.  The 
Ogre  !  (LITTLE  B.  begins  to  cry) 

MRS.  D.  See,  ma'am,  you've  affrighted  her.  (going  to  her) 
There,  my  dear,  no  need  to  cry  till  you're  hurt,  and  com* 


14  Mid  AND  MHI. 

what  may,  Mrs.  Deborah  will  be  your  friend,  M  give  her  t 
kiss,  (kisses  /wr) 

Jo  ANNA,  (coming  doton  and  thrusting  MRS.  D.  anrfe)  Mercy, 
but  my  commiseration  for  one  is  like  to  make  me  forget  there 
IB  another  who  stands  in  even  greater  need  of  consolation. 
(tight  and  produce*  little  looking-glass  and  powder-box  from  her 
pocket)  I  pray  you,  girl,  hold  this,  that  I  may  take  a  glimpse 
at  my  rueful  countenance.  (LITTLE  B.  take*  gla**  and  gaztt 
admiringly  at  JOANNA  a*  she  fettles  her  skirt*  and  powders  her 
face)  I  declare  I'm  a  fright,  (sighs)  Such  are  the  ravages  of 
grief — especially  a  grief  we  can't  discourse  on.  Lower,  girl, 
lower  that  1  may  see  my  waist.  "Pis  proclaimed  by  one  who 
knows  the  smallest  in  the  world.  (LITTLE  B.  lowers  the  glau, 
tt  ill  gazing  at  JOANNA)  The  child  is  lost  in  admiration  of  my 
gown,  (put*  the  glass,  etc.,  in  her  pocket)  I  warrant  'tis  a 
brief  acquaintance  she'll  have  with  silk  and  satin,  (laugh*) 
Sackcloth  gives  better  service,  and  the  wearer'*  attention  Li 
not  distracted  from  the  sciences,  (laugh*)  Good-bye,  child,  t 
look  to  you,  Mrs.  Deborah,  to  loosen  the  bars  sometimes  and 
let  the  prisoner  visit  me,  for  her  relaxation,  (exit  through 
door; — outside)  Mercy  1  These  stairs. 

During  thi*  scene  MRS.  D.  takes  letter*  from  table  B.  to 
table  upper  R.  ,  then  goe*  to  table  down  R.  and  arrange*  it ; 
the  then  follows  JOANNA  off"  and  pull*  the  door  after  her ; 
it  closes  urith  snap  ;  PEGGY,  as  she  i*  now  to  be  called, 
looks  round  the  room  and  realising  her  loneliness  beyint 
to  cry ;  she  checks  herself  presently  at  the  remember*  htr 
talk. 

PEGGY,  (mechanically)  Twice  one  are  two— twice  two  are 
four — twice  three  are  six — (her  attention  wander*  to  th* 
appointment*  of  the  room,  and  she  looks  round  with  somt 
rmiotity  ;  prtsently  the  trie*  the  door  and  nnding  it  witt  not 
pf/en,  Kink*  on  the  floor  and  cover*  her  face  with  her  apron) 

A  head  it  teen  outside  the  casement  window  and  CAPTAUT 
GKOROB  LOVKLL,  clinging  to  a  vine,  peeps  in,  then  he 
raise*  himself  to  the  sill,  throws  his  leg  oner  and  cautiously 
enters  \  he  \*  a  handsome  fellow  of  about  23  or  25,  clud 
in  regimental*  ;  not  perceiving  PEGGY  he  begins  hunting 
about  the  floor  ;  while  he  is  half  under  the  table,  PEGGY 
utter*  another  faint  cry  for  help  ;  he  put*  his  head  out 
and  stare*. 

LOVELL.  Hillo,  there  1    (PEOOY  remove*  her  apron  and  *taru 
return)    Hillo,  Missy,  who  the  devil  aie  you  ? 

¥.  (rising  and  bohbing  a  curtsey)  I  am  Mr.  Eaubury't 
I've  just  been  adopted. 


XI01  AND  HEX.  IB 

(rwn<?  <™d  laughing)  Just  been  adopted.  No 
Bonder  yon  cried  for  help. 

PEG«Y.  It  was  because  the  door  wouldn't  open. 

Lo>iLL.  Scared  by  a  spring  lock,  eh  t  'Tis  an  excellent 
device,  (nods)  Though  I'm  puzzled  to  divine  how  a  man 
with  no  creditors  came  to  think  on't.  Reassure  yourself, 
Missy.  Uncle  Admirable  means  you  no  harm.  He  is  gentle- 
ness personified  to  all  save  one.  (bows)  Yours  to  command 
in  most  uncommon  deep  in  his  black  books  just  now. 

PEGGY,  (looking  at  window)  Did  you  come  through  there, 
•frl 

LOVBLL.  Yes.  (laughs)  What  are  you  looking  for — my 
wings  ?  We  latter-day  spirits  have  no  need  of  pinions  to  fly 
from  a  dun's  persistence,  or  to  our  own  undoing,  (look* 
t&out  the  floor)  I  suppose  you  haven't  seen  anything  here- 
abouts of  a  locket  with  a  portrait  on  the  front. 

PEGGY,  (shaking  her  head  and  kneeling  on  the  floor)  Let  mt 
look.  You'll  spoil  your  beautiful  clothes. 

LOVELL.  (laughing)  Ton  my  soul,  you're  a  diverting  little 
piece.  So  you  admire  my  trappings,  eh  t 

PEGOY.  (gravely)  They  are  very  handsome,  and  BO  are 
jrou. 

LOVELL.  (half  drawing  his  sword)  Madam,  'tis  clear  you 
have  a  discerning  eye.  Permit  me  to  salute  you.  (saluttt 
With  hand) 

PEGGY,  (approaches  him)  Could  you  open  that  door  ! 

LOVELL.  I  warrant  I  could,  though  I  scarce  perceive  the 
Immediate  necessity,  unless  you  are  still  afraid. 

PEGGY.  I  am  not  afraid  now — while  you  are  here. 

LOVBLL.  Then  you'd  best  invite  me  to  remain.  Gome, 
ask  me  to  sit.  (she  looks  up  timidly,  then  suddenly  bursts  cml 
with  her  forgotten  task) 

PEGGY.  Twice  one  are  two— twice  two  are  four — twice—— 

LOVBLL.  Whoa  !  Halt !  What  new  game  is  this  I 

PEGGY.  It  is  my  task,  sir. 

LOVELL.  A  fig  for  your  task,  (crosses  to  K.,  then  turns  to 
tar  and  slowly  backs  her  towards  bench  L.)  And  by  the  way, 
my  name  is  not  sir,  but  George— George  Lovell.  What  ia 
yours,  pretty  one  t 

PEGGY.  Little  Britain,  but  Mr.  Embury  is  to  call  me 
Peggy. 

LOVBLL.  Then  sit  down,  Peggy,  and  let  us  talk,  (she  sit* 
on  bench  L.,  and  he  sits  on  chair  B.C.  ;  he  smiles  ;  she  smiles) 
Bo  you  'r«  not  afraid  of  me  ? 

PEGGY.  Not  a  bit — George. 

LOVBLL.  Yet  I've  been  told  I'm  a  dangerous  fellow,  ant 
Within  the  hour  too. 


16  MICE  AND  MEN. 

PEGGY.  Do  you  always  enter  at  the  window  when  jom 
twit  Mr.  Embury  ? 

LOVELL.  (laughing)  Nay,  I  mostly  prefer  the_  door,  but  I 
came  in  to  seek  for  something  that  has  escaped  my  pocket. 
The  friend  who  gave  it  me  will  be  much  concerned  if  I  do 
not  bear  it  on  my  journey. 

PEGGY.  You  are  bound  on  a  journey  ? 

LOVELL.  (nodding)  My  pulse  has  been  a  little  feverish  of 
late,  and  I  am  oidered  a  change  of  climate,  (springing 
up  impatiently)  Gad  1  But  I  don't  take  kindly  to  th« 
medicine. 

PEGGY.  Then  what  causes  you  to  go  1 

LOVELL.  Causes  ?  The  first — the  foremost  of  all  cause% 
Peggy.  I've  been  running  with  a  petticoat. 

PEGGY.  With  a  long  petticoat  ?  (he  nods  ;  she  looks  at  her 
twn  ankle  skirts)  It  is  hard  to  run  with  a  long  petticoat. 

LOVELL.  It  is  harder  not  to,  sweetheart,  (going  towards 
her)  If  you  promise  not  to  tell,  I'll  describe  her  to  you. 
Blue  eyes  with  dark  lashes,  and  arched  brows.  Bewitching 
hands  and  feet,  and  the  daintiest  waist  ever  imprisoned  by 
brocade. 

PEGGY.  Is  her  name  Joanna  ? 

LOVELL.  What !  You've  seen  her  ?  (she  nods  ;  he  goes  dotvn 
E.C.)  She's  been  here  to  beard  the  lion  as  she  promised. 
With  little  result,  I'll  be  bound. 

PEGGY.  Is  she  sorry  you  have  to  go  away  ? 

LOVELL.  Sorry  1  (comes  back  to  c.)  I  promise  you  she'll 
weep  her  eyes  out. 

PEGGY.  And  the  old  gentleman,  will  he  weep  his  eyes  out 
tool 

LOVELL.  (coughs)  I'd  scarce  guarantee  that.  Old  gentle- 
men have  but  little  sympathy  withj^e  object  of  their  wives' 
•ibterly  regard. 

PEGGY.  You  are  her  brother  then  ? 

LOVELL.  (nodding)  By  adoption.  But  I'd  ask  you  not  to 
make  gossip  of  the  fact  Since  you  are  to  live  here  you'll  see 
much  of  sweet  Joanna.  Sweet  sister  Joanna,  (goes  up  to 
window  and  PEQ-GY  crosses  to  R.C.)  Her  house  lies  yonder, 
(points  and  kisses  his  hand  towards  it.) 

PEGGY.  (R.C.)  It  must  be  beautiful  to  have  a  brother. 

LOVELL.  (coming  down  L.)  It  is,  coz,  it  is. 

PtGGY.  I  wish  I  had  a  brother. 

LOVELL.  H'm-  you  may  have  some  day. 

PEGGY.  Is  Mr.  Embury  any— anybody's  brother  t 

LOVELL.  (shaking  his  head)  He'd  like  to  have  been 
but  she  jilted  him. 

.  (trying  to  pronounce  the  word)  Jilted  I 


MICE  AND  MEN.  17 

LOVELL.  Yes,  jilted— him.  Since  then  he  has  forsworn  the 
world  and  womankind. 

PEGGY,  (anxiously)  Will  you  come  back  when  the  fever  it 
wired — George  ? 

LOVELL.  Perhaps. 

PEGGY.  How  long  will  it  take  I 

LOVELL.  (down  L.)  My  sentence  calls  for  two  yean, 
eonfound  his  heartlessness. 

PEGGY,  (dossing  close  to  him)  Couldn't  you  get  cured 
without  going  away  ? 

LOVELL.  (looking  at  her  amusedly)  Maybe  I  could  pretty 
one.  (he  motions  her  to  tit ;  she  sits  n.  e,id  of  bench  ;  he  sit* 
I..  end.)  But  poor  people  cannot  do  as  they  will. 

PEGGY.  Are  you  poor  ? 

LOVELL.  Fairly  out  at  elbows,  except  we  reckon  by  debU. 

PEGGY.  You  should  pay  your  debts. 

LOVELL.  With  what,  sweet  Peggy  ?  I  swear  yon  are  a 
•ondiment  for  the  most  jaded  appetite. 

PBGGY.    You  mean  you  have  no  money. 

LOVELL.     The  oracle  has  spoken. 

PEGGY.  I  will  lend  you  some,  (rises  and  goes  to  C.  and 
produces  her  sixpence  ;  he  rises)  'Twas  the  Matron's  parting 

E'ft,  but  I've  never  had  so  large  a  piece,  and  should  not 
low  how  to  spend  it.     Why  do  you  not  take  it  ? 
LOVELL.  I  scarce  think  it  would  go  far  enough  to  satisfy 
all  my  creditors  and  'tis  unwise  to  create  a  jealously,     (she 
looks  disappointed  and  sits  in  chair  R.  of  table)     I  thank  you 
for  the  offer  pretty  coz.     (goes  to  table  and  sits  on  &)    I've  a 
notion  that  given  the   opportunity   we'd  have  been  good 
friends.     You  remind  me  of  a  song  I  sometimes  chant  to  the 
harpsichord.     It  runs  thus,  Peggy,     (sinys  in  a  Low  voice) 

O  my  love  is  like  a  red,  red  rose, 

That's  newly  sprung  in  June  ; 
My  love  is  like  a  melody, 

That's  sweetly  played  in  tuna. 
As  fair  art  thou,  my  bonny  las*, 

So  deep  in  love  am  I, 
And  I  will  love  thee  still,  my  dear, 

Till  a'  the  seas  gang  dry. 

(POUM)  I  wonder  if  you'd  send  me  a  letter  sometime! 
with  news  of  Hampstead — and — and — the  neighbours  ?  Rub* 
land  Barracks,  Dublin,  will  find  me.  (steps  down  to  c.) 

PEGOY.  (sadly  rising)  I  cannot  write. 

LOVELL.  Ah,  that's  a  pity.  A  great  pity,  (there  is  a  nois* 
*»  the  stair  ;  PEOUY  goes  to  door  a,)  'Sh  1  I  moat  be  goo* 


18  MICE  JLKD  K1V. 

Uncle  Admirable  would  not  favour  this  mode  of  entrance  to 
his  study,  (the  motions  him  to  open  the  door  ;  he  goes  to  it) 
Wait,  I'll  first  raise  the  catch.  It  goes  stiffly,  and  one  mast 
employ  a  knack,  (he  quietly  moves  the  catch  on  the  door,  then 
runs  to  the  window,  climbs  out,  and  putting  his  finger  to  hit 
lips,  disappears  ;  she  sits  demurely  on  the  bench  and  commence* 
her  tables  ;  a  step  is  heard  outside) 

Enter  EMBUBT.     PBGOY  rises. 

EMBURY.  Ah,  Peggy.  'Twas  not  intentionally  that  Mif 
Deborah  closed  the  door.  How  did  you  manage  to  loosen 
the  catch?  (she  goes  to  L.O.)  'Tis  somewhat  hard,  (pause) 
How  did  you  accomplish  it? 

PEGGY.  I  employed  a  knack,  (she  curtseys) 

EMBURY.  Do  not  curtsey  thus,  child.  The  manners  of 
society  have  no  place  in  our  curriculum.  (PETER  appears  at 
the  door)  What  is  it,  Peter  ? 

PETER,  (coming  forward)  I've  been  waiting  till  you  should 
be  alone,  master,  (produces  miniature)  I  found  this  on  th« 
floor  here. 

EMBURY,  (taking  it)  Here — when  t 

PETER.  Just  after  you  and  Captain  Lovell  went  oat. 

EMBURY,  (frowning)  Ah.  By-the-by,  I  want  a  word  with 
Captain  Lovell.  You'll  likely  find  him  over  at  the  Barracks. 
(exit  PETER)  (EMBURY places  the  trinket  on  the  tables..,  then 
turns  and  gazes  at  PEGGY)  You  have  not  felt  lonely  in  my 
absence  ?  (she  shakes  her  head)  Good  !  You  lack  not  the  art 
of  self-communion.  How  is  your  courage  ?  (sits  on  chair  m. 
j  table) 

PEGGY.  Very  well,  thank  you,  sir. 

EMBURY.  Good  again,  (takes  pistol  from  drawer)  Do  yom 
perceive  this  ?  (she  nods)  'Tis  not  loaded.  Now  count,  one, 
two,  three,  (she  counts :  at  three  he  points  pistol  at  her  feet 
and  pulls  the  trigger ;  she  gives  a  scream  and  a  jump)  Ah,  not 
no  good.  No  matter,  we'll  do  better  by  and  by.  Be  a  good 
girl,  Peggy,  and  I  will  show  you  how  to  draw  a  circle  and  aa 
equilaterial  triangle. 

PEGGY,  (quietly)  That  will  be  nice. 

EMBURY.  If  there's  aught  that  excites  your  curiosity,  1 
beg  you'll  satisfy  yourself  by  judicious  questions. 

PEGGY.  What  is  jilted  ?  (a  pause) 

EMBURY.  Jilted  f 

PEGGY.  Yes,  jilted.  What  does  it  meant  (rubbing  her 
kauris  nervously) 

EMBURY,  (uneasily)  Jilted  means  deceived,  but  'ti« 
scarce  a  word  we'll  need  in  our  daily  practice,  (suddenly 
•rowingr  to  tor)  I  hope  your  circulation's  good.  'Twould 


MICE  AND  MEN.  19 

please  me,  Peggy,  to  know  you  had  an  inclination  to  ran 
barefoot  on  the  heath  in  the  early  morning.  Such  habits 
harden  the  body,  and  make  us  impervious  to  disease,  (he 
walks  up  with  his  hands  behind  him,  then  suddenly  turns  to 
table  up  R.)  Do  you  know  how  to  shoe  a  horse  ?  (she  shaket 
her  head)  Ah,  I  will  show  you  to-morrow.  (PETER  appear* 
at  door) 

PETER.  Captain  Lovell,  master. 

EMBUEy.  Bid  him  come  up.  (exit  PETER  ;  EMBURY  take* 
the  miniature  from  the  table  R.,  hesitates  a  moment,  then  placet 
it  prominently  on  the  floor  c.  ;  PEGGY  looks  wonderingly  on 
and  sits  on  bench  L.  ;  enter  LOVELL)  Peggy,  (she  rises)  Thin 
is  my  nephew,  Captain  Lovell.  (she  curtseys)  My  ward. 
(LOVELL  winks  at  her,  then  gravely  bows  ;  she  tries  to  guide  hit 
eyes  to  the  miniature ;  he  perceives  it  and  is  about  to  stoop 
when  EMBURY  turns  again) 

LOVBLL.  You  s«nt  for  me,  sir.  (keeps  his  eye  nervously  on 
Miniature) 

EMBURY,  (walking  carelessly  over  the  spot)  Yes.  I  had  ft 
doubt.  'Twas  but  a  small  one,  still,  I  desired  to  satisfy  it. 

LOVELL.  (R.  anxiously)  My  friends  have  weakened  your 
decisions  ? 

EMBURY.  (Sits  *.  of  table)  Nay,  though  they  seemed  vastly 
anxious  to  defeat  your  expedition. 

LOVBLL.  My  friends,  sir,  would  naturally  be  solicitous  foi 
roy  good  name.  To  run  away  from  one's  creditors  is  to 
mislead  them  in  regard  to  one's  ultimate  intentions. 

EMBURY.  You  may  depart  with  a  light  conscience,  for  'ti§ 
my  design  to  pay  these  creditors. 

LOVELL.  Your  generosity  shall  never  be  forgotten,  uncle. 
But  these  harpies  paid,  the  necessity  for  my  departure  is 
removed. 

EMBURY.  Nay,  there  are  other — more  serious  dangers. 
(rises  and  turns  to  table  at  back  for  writing  materials  which  he 
places  on  table  R  ;  LOVELL  quickly  picks  up  the  miniature  and 
put  it  in  hit  pocket ;  EMBURY  sighs)  My  resolution  is 
unchanged,  I'd  have  you  ponder  well  what  you  do  with  the 
next  two  years.  If  at  the  end  you  have  put  your  follies 
behind  you,  your  reformation  shall  receive  substantial 
recognition.  If,  on  the  contrary 

LOVBLL.  (sharply)  We  need  *\ot  take  the  contrary  into 
account,  sir. 

EMBURY.  I  am  relieved  to  hear  it.  (commences  writing) 

LOVELL.  (going  towards  door)  Is  there  aught  else,  uncle  f 
(PEGGY  rises  and  goes  to  L.O.) 

EMBUR-X.  (without  turning)  Yes.  That  little  ornament  you 
juet  BOW  picked  up.  You  may  t*ke  it  across  to  neighboui 


JO  MICE  AND  MEW. 

Goodhfce,  with  my  compliments,  and  say  that  either  he,  ot 
his  lady  must  have  dropped  it  during  his  recent  visit,  (ht 
advances  toward  LOVELL)  Can  I  trust  you  with  this 
commission  ? 

LOT  ELL.  (hesitate*,  then  impulsively  extends  his  hand)  Yon 
can,  sir.  (EMBURY  takes  his  hand,  he  then,  bows  and  after  a 
turreptitious  kiss  of  his  hand  to  PEGGY  exits  guickly  ;  P;:GGT 
gazes  wistfully  at  the  door  as  Lo  YELL'S  steps  are  heard  descend* 


EMBURY,  (with  a  sigh  of  relief)  That  much  off  our  minds, 
Peggy.  And  now  to  lay  our  plans  for  your  education. 
(enthusiastically)  We're  going  to  substitute  science  for 
embroidery  —  the  anvil  for  th*  harpsichord  —  the  birds  shall 
school  us  in  song  and  the  ants  in  architecture. 

PEGGY,  (with  a  lingering  look  towards  the  door)  And  will 
you  —  will  you  —  teach  me  how  to  write  ? 

EMBURY,  (going  to  R.  of  table)  Aye,  you  shall  do  all  that 
becomes  a  maid.  Trained  in  sweet  simplicity,  unable  to 
deceive. 

PEGGY.  Deceive  —  that's  jilted,  isn't  it?  I'll  try  not  t« 
jilt  you  very  often.  But  please  let  u*  —  let  w  to  the  writing. 

EMBURY,  (choosing  a  pen)  The  writing  !  (PEGGY  sits  on 
chair  L.  of  table)  Aye,  we'll  to  the  anting,  {hand*  her  Ifc 


MICE  AND  HEN.  II 


ACTII. 

MARCH.  Nearly  two  years  later;  the  living  room  in  Mm. 
EMBUKY'S  house  ;  a  latched  door  in  a  small  porch  opens  on 
to  the  garden  at  back ;  at  L.  of  door  there  is  a  diamond  framed 
window ;  door  at  upper  R.  and  another  at  lower  B.  ;  between 
these  doors  a  ponderous  chest  of  drawers  or  press,  surmounted 
by  curtained  shelves  ;  a  chair  in  front  of  press  ;  a  fireplace  at 
L.  (no  fire)  ;  near  fireplace  a  large  square  table  and  chair,  and 
at  back  between  door  and  window  a  small  writing  table,  with 
quills,  ink,  writing  paper,  tit. ;  a  small  chair  at  writing 
table  -,  at  rise  of  curtain 

MRS.  DEBORAH  in  stiff  gown  and  black  silk  apron  is  sitting 
at  large  table  at  needlework  ;  enter  MOLLY,  a  raw-looking 
maid-servant,  from  Zouxr  R. 

MOLLY.  The  pastry  things  be  all  ready  in  the  scullery 
Mrs.  Deborah. 

MRS.  D.  (glancing  at  clock)  Mercy  on  us  !  Nigh  on  twelve 
o'clock,  (rises  and  folds  her  work ;  figure  passes  the  window 
and  a  knock  is  heard  at  the  door)  See  who's  at  the  door, 
Molly,  (goes  to  press  and  placet  workbasket  on  it) 

MOLLY  opens  do&r  and  KIT  BARNIGKB  enters  ;  he  is  * 
quaint  little,  deferential,  old-fashioned  man,  between 
40  and  50 ;  he  carries  a  green  baixe  bag,  and  a  paper 
bag  ;  his  attitudes  are  suggestive  of  a  minuet ;  Mrs.  D. 
turn*) 

MRS.  D.  By  all  that's  welcome,  'tis  Kit  Barniger,  blown 
down  from  London,  just  as  I  am  dying  for  news  of  the 
fashions.  (KiT  lays  his  hat,  green  bag,  and  paper  bag  on  the 
table,  then  gravely  kisses  MRS.  D.'s  extended  hand ;  she  sees  th* 
green  bag)  I  declare  you've  brought  your  fiddle. 

KIT.  (L.C.  near  table,  with  an  apologetic  cough)  An'  please 
you,  Mrs.  Deborah,  'twould  be  more  correct  to  say  the  fiddle 
had  brought  me.  There's  to  be  a  grand  Masquerade  at 
Belsize  to-night,  and  I've  been  hired  to  lead  the 

MRS.  D.  (R.C.)  'Sh  !  (turns  to  MOLLY,  who  has  been  uncon- 
sciously imitating  KIT'S  movements)  Don't  stand  so,  Gaby,  but 
fetch  the  pastry  board,  (exit  MOLLY  ;  she  turns  to  KIT)  I'd 
not  for  worlds  it  should  get  about  that  I  had  a  relative  who 
capered  for  a  living,  so  give  me  the  fiddle,  (he  hands  her  tht 
green  bag,  and  she  places  it  in  press  and  takes  out  a  white  apron, 
which  she  puts  on)  Mr.  Embury  is  all  against  the  assemblies* 


2*  MICE  Ain>  MEH. 

Mid  his  neighbour,  Mr.  Goodlake,  is  up  in  arms  about  them, 
(return*  to  o.)  But  you've  not  told  me  what  is  tht  latest  sty  It 
in  petticoats.  I  hear  that  waists  grow  short  again,  and  hoods 
are  become  prodigious. 

KIT.  (undoing  paper  bag)  They  needs  be  to  cover  th« 
heads,  ma'am,  (takes  out  an  enormous  hair  pad)  I've  brought 
you  the  newest  thing  among  the  quality. 

MRS.  D.  (taking  it)  Lord  1  A  cushion  for  the  hair. 
(examines  it)  'Tis  elegant,  and  not  even  Mrs.  Goodlake  has 
aught  so  genteel,  (goes  bchindKrr  and  L.  of  table)  'Twill  open 
some  eyes  at  church,  I'm  thinking,  (lays  pad  on  table  at 
MOLLY  enters  with  flour  barrel,  board,  and  materials  for  the 
pastry,  and  then  exits)  Sit  you  down,  Kit.  I'd  die  of  shame 
•hould  Mr.  Embury  come  in,  and  catch  you  with  your  toes 
outpointed  so. 

KIT.  (meekly  obeying)  I  fancy  I  observed  Mr.  Embury 
Working  in  the  garden. 

Mas.  D.  Aye,  he's  trying  to  grow  foreign  plants  according 
to  A  theory. 

KIT.  And  his  ward,  Miss  Peggy. 

MBS  D.  (making  the  pie)  Thrives  vastly  well,  bless  her, 
when  one  considers  her  savage  training.  She  has  not  a 
•ingle  polite  accomplishment.  She  knows  not  even  how  to 
swoon,  and  though  nigh  on  eighteen,  will  as  soon  run  bare- 
foot as  shod,  (lowers  her  voice)  But,  mark  you — (touches  him 
with  rolling  pin  across  the  table  ;  he  disconcertedly  moves  further 
away)  There's  a  changing  of  the  tables,  (laughs)  Tis  the 
master  who's  getting  to  be  the  pupil  now,  and  he's  no  more 
notion  of  it  than  had  Adam  when  he  bit  the  apple  and 
brought  us  all  down  to 

KIT.  (looking  at  pad)  Hair  pads,  Mrs.  Deborah, 

(EMBURY  and  GOODLAKE  pass  the  window) 

MRS.  D.  Hist — somebody's  coming.  Place  it  in  the  paper, 
•cd  see  that  you  turn  your  toes  in. 

KIT  conceals  the  pad  as  EMBURY  and  GOODLAKE  enter 
through  door  at  back  ;  EMBURY  is  much  less  austere  in 
his  manner,  and  looks  younger  than  in  the  1st  Act  \  he 
is  in  his  shirt  sleeves  with  his  coat  over  hit  arm,  and 
carries  a  flower  pot) 

GOOD,  (angrily)  Damme,  but  I'll  have  these  masquerades 
•topped,  if  I  have  to  carry  the  matter  into  Parliament. 
They're  drawing  all  the  scum  from  town.  Why,  only  yester- 
day Joanna  was  ogled  in  the  street  by  some  city  dandy.  (stu 
KIT)  Ah,  who's  this  ?  (  KIT  has  risen  and  is  tUnding  in  • 
•haracUrittic  attitud*) 


MCE  AND  MEW.  t9 

Mms.  D.  (L.  curtseying  stifliy)  An'  please  yon,  Mr.  Good. 
lake,  it  is  my  cousin  twice  removed. 

EMBURY.  (R.)  To  be  sure,  and  no  better  credentials  could 
be  bring,  except  he  were  but  once  removed. 

MRS.  D.  Thank  you  kindly,  sir.  (give*  paste  board  to  KIT, 
mnd  nudges  him  to  change  his  attitude)  Bear  this  to  the 
•cullery,  Kit,  it  LB  time  to  think  of  dinner,  (she  takes  the 
other  things,  leaving  only  the  flour  barrel,  and  follows  KIT  to 
fewer  B.) 

EMBURY.  By  the  way,  Mrs.  Deborah  (she  turns)  do  you 
•et  an  extra  plate.  Captain  Lovell  has  returned  to  England, 
and  will  dine  with  us.  (MRS.  D.  curtseys  and  goes  off,  after 
nudging  KIT,  who  ts  posing  at  door  R.  ;  he  follows  her) 

GOOD.  So,  the  exile  is  recalled,  and  what  hare  two  years 
done  for  your  scapegrace,  Embury  ? 

EMBURY.  Much,  if  report  speaks  truly.  He  has  lately 
taken  an  interest  in  our  horticulture,  and  has  sent  Peggy 
•ome  shamrocks  from  Ireland,  (thoughtfully)  This  I  take  to 
be  a  promising  sign. 

GOOD.  H'm — uncommon  promising.     And  the  maid  t 

EMBURY,  (innocentty)  Is  likewise  deeply  interested  in  the 
•cience.  She  has  even  sent  specimens  in  return,  (rubs  hit 
hands)  Ah,  I'm  progressing,  Koger,  I'm  progressing. 

GOOD.  Ah,  you're  progressing  fast  enough.  'Tis  a  toss  up 
whether  you'll  be  a  finished  gardener  or  a  finished  fool,  (sits 
near  table) 

EMBURY.  I'll  own  the  cactus  plants  have  scarce  fulfilled 
tty  calculations,  (places  flower  pot  on  window  sill) 

GOOD.  Ye  gods  1  Who  ever  heard  of  growing  cacti  in  a 
cabbage  earth.  Try  yellow  turnips.  'Tis  the  best  soil  in 
all  England  for  yellow  turnips.  To  prove  it,  I'll  send  you  a 
basket  of  my  own  raising. 

EMBURY,  (putting  his  coat  on)  Bah  !  The  soil,  my  friend, 
la  what  the  scientific  gardener  chooses  to  make  it. 

GOOD.  H'm — 'twas  thus  you  reasoned  when  yon  adopted 
the  young  wench. 

EMBURY.  (R.)  And  was  I  not  justified?  Tell  me,  old 
Killjoy,  where  else  will  you  fihd  a  maid  who  sets  no  store  by 
ornamental  dress  ?  Who  has  never  seen  her  own  reflection, 
•ave  perhaps  in  a  meadow  pool  ?  Who — who  is 

GOOD,  (sarcastically)  *'  Fearless  as  the  Spartan  wives." 

EMBURY,  (uneasily)  I'll  own  I  cannot  make  her  wholly 
•ontemptuous  of  danger. 

GOOD,  (quoting)  **  With  a  taste  for  the  sciences." 

EMBURY.  And  does  she  not  love  botany  ? 

GOOD.  Ah,  I'd  forgotten  the  botany.  Well,  I  warned  j<m 
At  the  time  that  dissatisfaction  would  come  of  it.  and  so  'twill. 


24  MICE  AND  MEW. 

EMBURY.  On  what  rests  your  argument,  Roger  f 

GOOD.  On  this.  She's  a  woman,  and  thus  predestined  te 
mischief.  The  one  safeguard  is  matrimony,  and  so  you'd  do 
well  to  make  her  acquainted  with  your  project. 

EMBURY,  (nervously)  She's  young  yet. 

GOOD.  That's  a  fault  she'll  overcome  without  your  help. 
Dod's  man  ?  Now's  the  time  for  you  to  act. 

EMBURY.  And  what  if  I've  begun  already.  (GOODLAKI 
looks  up  ;  EMBURY  laughs)  Your  curiosity  makes  me  half  ft 
mind  to  keep  you  guessing.  Nay,  I'll  tell  you.  I've 
bought  the  old  South  Cottage,  on  the  other  side  of  the  hill. 
Tis  tilled  with  iny  workmen,  who  are  planning  the  interior 
anew,  and  with  special  reference  to  the  needs  of  a  young 
mistress. 

GOOD,  (sarcastically)  And  did  you  begin  with  the  chimney 
pof  s  and  work  downwards  f  For  thus  would  the  same  man 
do.  who'd  build  the  cage  before  he'd  snared  the  bird. 

KM  BURY,  (going  towards  R,  )  Too  much  precipitance  will 
sometime  lose  a  man  the  prize,  (coughs)  How  think  you  on* 
hml  best  approach  — 

GOOD.  A  woman  ?  (rises)  As  one  would  pluck  a  nettle. 
No  gingerly  touch,  as  you'd  save  your  skin,  but  with  a  firm 
grasp  and  resolute  will.  'Twas  thus  I  won  Joanna.  (chuckles) 
And  'tis  thus  I  keep  her  sole  regard.  'Tis  I  who  command, 
and  she  who  obeys.  Which  reminds  me,  she  has  ordered 
me  to  meet  the  coach.  Her  cousin,  Sir  Harry  Trimblestone, 
comes  on  a  visit,  (goes  up)  I'll  tell  my  man  to  bring  over  the 
basket  of  yellow  turnips.  And  hark  you,  see  to  it  that  you 
pluck  the  nettle  ere  another  saves  you  the  trouble.  Lord  I 
I  know  women  as  I  know  my  own  head  in  the  glass,  (exit  ; 
EMBURY  walks  to  and  fro  buried  tn  thought). 

EMBURY.  A  woman  9  It  seems  scarce  possible  she  can  be 
ft  woman,  (goes  down  L.) 

The  back  door  opens  and  PEGGY  bursts  in  •  she  is  bar* 
footed,  and  swings  her  laced  shoes  over  her  arm; 
under  her  arm  she  carries  two  ponderous  books  ;  on* 
has  a  green  cover  ;  she  is  clad  in  a  simple  grey  or  brown 
frock,  ankle  length  ;  the  sleeves  are  short  and  there  i* 
white  cambric  at  the  neck  ;  she  wears  a  bunch  of  purplt 
h  \jaciuths  in  her  bodice  ;  her  hair  is  in  long  curls  ;  sh* 
is  humming  the  song  sung  by  LOTELL  in  first  act  (sh« 
seeing  EMBURY,  and  remains  shyly 


Good  morning,  Peggy. 
Good  morning,  guardian  (moves  down  ft.) 
£M*U*Y.  tfc.a)  Do  not  run  away  jet 


MICE   AND  MEH.  tS 

PEGGY,  (coming  down)  You  seemed  so  deep  In  thought. 
(places  book*  on  ledge  of  press) 

EMBURY.  I  was  thinking — thinking  that  perhaps  'twas 
•carce  maidenly  to  run  about  so.  (glancing  at  her  feet) 

PEGGY,  (trying  to  hide  her  feet  by  standing  on  one  foot  at  a 
time)  "Such  habits  harden  the  body  and  render  us 
impervious  to  disease." 

EMBURY,  (uneasily)  Yes,  yes.     But  now  that  you  are— er — 

PEGGY.  Quite  hardened  ? 

EMBURY.  Now  that  you  are  older,  (halts  before  her)  You 
•re  older,  Peggy.  Older  than  you  were.  Indeed,  I've  a 
notion  you  must  be  almost  a  woman. 

PEGGY.  Who  has  told  you  ? 

EMBURY.  Told  me  ? 

PEGGY.  Yes.  You  are  so  much  engaged,  you  could  ne'er 
have  had  the  time  to  find  it  out  for  yourself.  You  are  not 
displeased,  I  hope.  Tis  a  thing  one  cannot  avoid. 

EMBURY.  No,  I  am  not  displeased. 

PEGGY,  (smiling)  That  is  well.  You  see  I  wanted  to  be 
grown  up,  and  was  waiting  for  you  to  give  your  sanction. 
(pauses)  I  suppose  I'd  best  put  on  my  shoes,  (she  motions  as 
vf  to  sit  on  the  floor  ;  EMBURY  then  takes  chair  from  table  and 
places  it  in  c.  then  turns  away  ;  PEGGY  turns  the  chair  so  thai 
it  has  its  back  to  him  and  audience,  and  begins  to  put  on  her 
stockings  and  shoes ;  she  resumes  the  refrain  she  was  singing 
when  she  entered) 

EMBURY,  (down  L.  listening)  What  is  that  you  are  always 
tinging  ? 

PEGGY,  (timidly)  'Tia  something  I  heard  a  long  time  ago. 

EMBURY.  Won't  you  sing  it  for  me,  with  the  words  ? 

PEGGY.  1  will  try,  if  I  may  sing  it  while  my  back  is  turned. 

EMBURY.  Yes,  yes.  (she  sings  shyly  in  a  low  voice  verse  of 
tong  siwig  by  LOVELL  in  Act  1st.  It  ends  with  the  lines  :  "  And 
I  will  love  thee  still  my  dear,  till  a'  the  seas  gang  dry"  ;  she  rises 
at  finish.  EMBURY  has  crossed  to  R.  during  second  half  of 
verse  ;  PEGGY  on  finishing  the  refrain  replaces  the  chair  by  table) 

EMBURY  (B.  repeating  and  glancing  at  her  dreamily)  "Till 
a'  the  seas  gang  dry."  (he  turns  away  and  takes  up  her  books 
from  the  press)  It  seems  you  prosecute  your  studies  out  of 
doors.  Tis  a  plan  to  be  commended,  (reads  title  of  book) 
'*  Hume's  Inferential  Psychology."  (reads  another)  "  Galileo's 
Astronomical  Calculations."  Faith,  'twere  hard  to  find  two 
better  companions  for  a  country  ramble,  (ffoes  ».o.) 

PEGGY,  (with  earnestness,  taking  book)  Indeed  it  is  so.  Of 
all  the  books  in  your  library,  there  is  none  will  lay  a  sprig  so 
flat,  or  press  a  fern  so  well,  (opens  and  shows  pressed  leave* 
between  the  page*,  itien  take*  up  tl*  green  book)  Since  Mr. 


26  MICE  AND  MElf, 

Galileo  wears  a  green  coat,  I  let  him  mind  the  shamrocks 
that  came  from  Ireland,  (shows  shamrocks.  He  frown  i)  See, 
But  I've  angered  you.  How  ?  Is  it  my  hair  ?  I  cannot 
remedy  it.  The  more  I  try  to  comb  it  straight,  the  more  it 
curls,  (takes  hold  of  a  ringlet)  See  for  yourself.  Pull  it. 
Twill  not  hurt,  (he  timidly  takes  the  ringlet  in  his  hand) 

EMBURY.  'Tis  very  soft  and  springy.  You  need  not  try  to 
straighten  it,  Peggy,  for  I  fancy  I'd  not  have  it  other  than  it 
la.  (he  moves  away,  then  turns)  Still,  I  am  like  to  be  dis- 
appointed in  you.  (she  murmurs  deprecatingly  and  her  fact 
falls)  There,  not  so  much  perhaps,  but  a  little. 

PEGOT.  For  my  lack  of  learning,  is  it  ?  Is  that  so  grave  a 
fault  in — in — a  girl  ?  Two  learned  people  in  a  house,  had 
like  to  make  it  rather  dull,  I'm  thinking.  And  then,  if  I 
were  other  than  I  am,  I  could  not  be  myself,  (replaces  book* 
on  shelf  and  comes  to  him),  and  that  might  cause  you  dis- 
appointment also. 

EMBURY,  (softly)  In  truth,  I  think  it  might,  (turns  a\oay) 

PEQOY.  Then  you'll  not  be  vexed  with  me  any  more  ?  For 
I  love  yon  best  of  all  I  know. 

EMBURY,  (turning  nervously  to  her)  You — you  love  me, 
•aid  you  t 

PEGGY,  (looking  him  straight  in  the  eyes)  Faith,  I  do.  Who 
In  all  the  world  is  so  good  ? 

EMBURY.  Ah,  and  so  you  love  me  for  my  goodness  1 

PEGGY.  Yes.  (laughs)  And  if  you'll  but  love  me  for  my 
badness,  we  shall  both  merit  the  other's  approbation. 

EMBURY.  For  what  do  you  love  those  wild  hyacinths  that 
you  gather  every  day  1  (points) 

PEGGY.  For  their  beautiful  colour,  (takes  tome  from  her 
bodice)  Please  take  some.  They'll  remind  you  of  youi 
promise  not  to  scold  me  any  more. 

EMBURY.  And  when  they  fade,  what  then  1 

PEGOY.  I'll  bring  you  others.  But  I've  set  you  frowning 
•gain. 

EMBURY,  (taking  her  hand)  Nay,  child,  I  was  thinking, 
I— I — have  something  to  tell  you,  something  that 

Enter  PETER. 

PETER.  A  paper-hanger  would  speak  with  yon,  master. 

EMBURY.  Show  him  to  the  study.  I  will  come,  (exit 
PETER  ;  EMBURY  mores  up  c) 

PEGGY.  But  the  secret — you'll  not  go  without— telling  me 
the  secret.  I  warrant  'tis  something  pleasing. 

EMBURY.  I  hope  'twill  please  you.  I  almost  think  it  will 
But  I've  scarce  time  now. 


1001  AKD  MEN.  27 

PEGOY.  (disappointed}  Is  it  that  you  are  afraid  to  trust  •• 
now  that  I'm  grown  up.     If  you  really  did  love  me  — 
EMBURY,  (murmuring  half  to  himself) 

"  I  will  lore  thee  still,  my  deart 
Till  a'  the  seas  gang  dry." 

(ytniles)  Yes,  yes,  you  are  a  woman.     Quite  a  woman,     (evil) 

PEGGY,  (disconsolately  goes  down  L.  then  sits  on  table)  It 
would  seem  that  I  must  have  aged  a  deal  since  breakfast. 
(she  looks  round  cautiously,  then  darts  to  the  cheat  of  drawers, 
and  takes  a  small  looking-glass ;  while  she  is  surveying  herself 
enter  MRS.  DEBORAH,  lower  R.) 

MRS.  D.  (R.C.)  Mercy  1  Did  one  ever  see  the  like  of  it  ?  I 
vow  there's  no  hiding  things  from  young  monkeys.  Put  it 
down,  Miss,  or  as  1  live,  your  guardian  shall  hear — 

PEGGY.  (L.C.)  Shall  hear  that  despite  his  orders,  you  keep 
in  the  house  a  looking-glass,  (laughs) 

MRS.  D.  A  gentlewoman  must  needs  keep  her  cap  straight. 

PEGGY,  (teasingly)  Then  so  you'll  behave  well  in  future, 
I'll  not  tell  him.  (dances  her  round)  Mrs  Deborah,  I'm  grown 
up,  grown  up.  What  think  you  of  that  ? 

MRS.  D.  (wrenching  herself  free,  L.o.)  Think,  madcap  ?  I 
think  you'd  best  show  some  proof  of  it.  There,  put  back 
the  glass,  like  my  pretty  one.  (goes  to  table.  PEGGY  takes 
Glass  to  the  press,  and  while  replacing  it,  she  discovers  the  green 
lag) 

PEGGY.  Oh,  ho  !  What  is  this  ?  A  fiddle  1  (takes  it  out  of  bag) 

MRS.  D.  (turning)  Lord  !  You'll  be  the  death  o'  me.  Pal 
it  down  ere  Kit  catches  sight  of  you. 

PEGGY.  What  1  Kit  here  ?    Dear,  captivating  Kit. 

MRS.  D.  'Sh  i  He  is  come  to  conduct  the  dancing  at  th« 
Masquerade  Ball  to-night. 

PEGGY.  A  ball  I  Happy,  hateful,  abominable  Kit.  (she 
tapirs  about) 

(Knock  at  door ;  MRS.  D.  motions  her  to  hide  the  fiddly 
and  goes  to  the  door ;  PKGGY  places  fiddle  in  press. 
Enter  JOANNA  GOODLAKE) 

JOANNA,  Good  morning,  Mrs.  Deborah,  (she  kisses  PKGGY 
«m  the  forehead)  I  declare  our  captive  bird  looks  quite  merry. 
(MRS.  D.  comes  dovm  L.C.) 

PEGGY,  (excitedly)  Have  you  heard  there's  to  be  a  ball 
to-night  1 

JOANNA,  (o.,  sighing)  Alas,  yes,  child.  And  1  know  of 
more  than  one  gallant  who'd  take  me,  did  I  not  fear  to  mak« 
mother  jealous. 


28  MICE   iND  MEN. 

MRS.  D.  By  Kit's  account  all  Hampstead  will  be  then.  IT! 
Warrant  Captain  Lovell  has  timed  his  arrival  for  it. 

JOANNA  AND  PEGGY  (together)  Captain  Lovell  1 

MRS.  D.  Aye,  he's  to  dine  hero  to-day,  and  Lord  I  I've  not 
turned  the  pastry,  (bustles  off  lower  B.  crossing  in  front  oj 
fern) 

PEGGY.  (R.O.,  excitedly)  Mr.  Embury  hinted  he  had  pleas- 
ing news  for  me.  It  must  have  been  this,  that  George  was 
come  home. 

JOANNA.  (L.O.,  sharply)  George  1  You  are  uncommon 
familiar  with  his  name.  I  warn  you  he'd  not  like  it.  He  does 
not  favour  intimacy,  save  with  one. 

PEGGY,  (inquisitively)     Save  with  one  1 

JOANNA,  (casting  down  her  eyes)  Since  you  will  have  it,  his 
heart  has  long  been  in  another's  keeping.  The  notes  I've 
given  you  from  time  to  time  to  enclose  with  your  fern  leaves 
have  all  borne  messages  from  her. 

PEGGY.  Her? 

JOANNA.     His  ladylove.     Er — a  close  friend  of  mine. 

PEGOY.  Is  she  handsome  ? 

JOANNA,  (coquet  tishly)  That's  scarce  for  me  to  say,  though 
I  warrant  he  thinks  so. 

PEGGY.  'Tis  strange  he  should  have  sent  her  no  replies. 

JOANNA.  Nay,  to  pretend  to  have  forgotten  her  ia  to  satisfy 
his  relatives. 

PEGGY.  Will  she  be  at  the  ball,  think  you  ? 

JOANNA.  Tis  possible  (turns  to  PEGGY)  Do  you  know  I've 
•  mind  to  go  myself  and  you  shall  go  too,  Peggy.  So  you  but 
keep  my  intentions  a  secret.  My  cousin,  Sir  Harry,  would 
be  charmed  to  escort  you.  He's  had  glimpses  of  you  in  the 
meadows  hereabouts.  Indeed  I've  had  much  ado  to  keep 
him  from  making  his  admiration  known,  and  so  mortifying 
old  Rigorous. 

PEGGY,  (sharply)  If  you  mean  my  guardian,  I  pray  you 
call  him  so. 

JOANNA.  Hoity  toity  1  I  had  thought  you  were  a  girl  of 
tpirit,  who  would  like  to  see  an  Assembly  for  once  in  her 
life. 

PEGGY,  (enthusiastically)  I  should  love  it. 

JOANNA,  (sneeringly)  Still  one  must  not  vex  one's  *'  dear 
Guardian." 

PEO<;Y.  I'd  not  vex  him  for  the  world,  (naively)  And  so 
I  would  not  let  him  know. 

JOANNA    Then  I  may  tell  Sir  Harry  t 

PEGGY.  Nay,  I'll  not  go  with  Sir  Harry.  Wait,  ah  I  Kit, 
dear  old  Kit  shall  take  me.  (<larts  towards  B,  then  halts)  But 
1  had  forgotten.  My  frock.  (Looks  at  it)  Alas,  I  cannot  go. 


MICE  AND  MEN.  29 

Silly  child.  Do  you  think  I'd  make  the  offer 
and  not  provide  the  means.  What  say  you  to  ray  second 
best  Buttercup  Satin  ?  For  myself  I've  a  brand  new  gown, 
which  Mr.  Goodlake  has  not  laid  eyes  upon.  He'd  rail  at  m|p 
extravagance.  You  shall  have  a  mask  also,  and  some  orna- 
ments. I'll  despatch  them  in  a  basket,  (goes  up,  then  stop$) 
I  was  forgetting.  I've  a  message  for  Captain  Lovell.  I'd 
best  write  it  down,  so  you  can  deliver  it.  (she  goes  to  table  at 
back  L.O.  where  there  are  writing  materials.  She  sits,  take*  a 
pen  and  writes) 

PEGGY,  (quietly)  Is  it  from  his — his — lady  love  ? 

JOANNA,  (slyly  looking  back  over  her  shoulder)  May  be  it  ia. 
(writes) 

PEGGY,  (going  to  JOANNA'S  K.)  What  is  her  name  ? 

JOANNA,  (smiling)  Nay,  I  never  tell  names.  Nor  do  I 
use  them  when  I  write. 

PEGGY.  I  scarce  think  I'd  like  to  bo  a  letter  carrier. 

JOANNA.  Nonsense.  "Pis  naught  but  a  few  polite  words. 
Fetch  me  some  wafers,  child,  (imperatively)  Fetch  me  some 
wafers.  (PKGGY  goes  off  upper  B.  JOANNA  rises  and  reads  her 
letter  "She  whose  heart  throbs  at  news  of  your  return  bids 
you  be  at  Belsize  Masquerade  to-night."  (PEGGY  re-enters  and 
comes  doum.  JOANNA  not  perceiving  htr,  sits  and  resumes  her 
letter,  reading  as  she  writes)  "  Safe  in  the  privacy  of  a  crowd, 
an  ardent  welcome  is  assured  you."  (sees  PEGGY  and  cease* 
abruptly,  folds  her  letter)  "Captain  Lovell."  (takes  the  wafer 
from  PEGGY  and  secures  the  letter)  Mind  you  place  it  out  of 
eight,  and  deliver  it  when  he  shall  be  alone  (gives  it  and  rises) 
I'll  slip  out  through  your  chamber  and  across  the  yard,  (goes 
R.)  So  shall  I  escape  Mr.  Goodlake,  who  is  in  his  most 
devoted  mood  this  morning,  (kisses  her  hand)  Good-bye,  sweet, 
till  to-night,  (exit  upper  &.)  PEGGY  goes  to  the  press  and  climb* 
on  a  chair) 

PEGGY,  (reflectively)  "  Safe  in  the  privacy  of  a  crowd,  an 
ardent  welcome  is  assured  you."  I  long  to  see  what  she  if 
like,  (she  places  the  letter  on  the  top  shelf) 

Enter  MRS.  D.  lower  B. 

MRS.  D.  (seeing  her)  And  what  mischief  is  it  now  f 

PKGGY.  (springing  down)  Naught  to  what  is  brewing. 
Listen,  (drags  her  down)  I  am  bound  for  the  ball  at  Belsize 
to-night  in  a  mask,  and  Mrs.  Goodlake's  second  best  Butter- 
cup Satin.  Ha,  ha  !  Just  think  of  it. 

MRS.  D.  (aghast)  You're  bound  for  Bedlam,  I'm  thinking. 
What  sort  of  madness  is  this  ? 

PEGGY,  (capering  about,  excitedly)  The  sort  that  makes 
one  want  to  peep  at  the  gay  sights.  To  lauujh — to  dance— 


•0  MICE  AND  MIX. 

to  dress  in  a  long  train  just  once  —  and  then  to  oome  back 
borne  and  be  good  for  ever — ever  after. 

MRS.  D.  And  think  you  I'll  be  a  party  to  any  such — 

PKOOY.  clamping  her  hands  over  MRS.  D.'s  mouth)  Without 
4oubt.  (^forces  her  into  chair,  then  kneels,  keeping  htr  mouth 
Covered)  First,  you'll  order  Kit  to  take  charge  of  me.  Then, 
when  Mr.  Embury's  gone  to  bed,  and  you've  helped  me  to 
dress,  you'H  see  me  safe  out  by  the  side  door,  (removes  her 
hands  and  springs  vv)  You  know  you  are  fairly  dying  for  a 
'^t  of  me  in  Mrs.  Goodlake's  Buttercup  Satin, 

MRS.  D.  I  protest  you're  crazy. 

PEGGY,  (pretending  to  cry)  Ah  1  Then  it  is  you  fear  that  I 
•hall  look  a  fright. 

MRS.  D.  (rising)  A  fright  iforsooth  1  (prorwfly)  Why,  there'i 
no  such  face  and  figure  in  all  England,  (relenting)  And  if  I 
thought  you'd — you'd — not  be  recognised. 

PEGGY.  (Hinging  her  arms  about  her  and  swinging  her 
round)  I  won't  be  recognised,  I  promise  yon.  I  must  need* 
dress  up  my  hair. 

MRS.  D.  (L.  suddenly)  The  hair  pad  would  help  your  di» 
guise,  (goes  to  the  table  for  it)  And  put  her  Goodlake  lady- 
ship fairly  out  of  countenance,  (produces  it)  See,  one  pins  il 
on,  then  the  hair  is  powdered  and  stretched  across. 

PKGGY.  (clasping  her  hands)  Isn't  it  divine  ?  (puts  pad  on 
chair  near  press)  I  wonder  shall  I  be  able  to  dance  the 
proper  steps.  Ah  !  Kit  shall  show  me.  (she  runs  to  lower 
door  R.  and  shouts)  Kit !  Kit  1  Oome  her«  at  once. 

Enter  KIT. 

KIT.  Is  the  house  a-fire  ? 

PEGGY.  No,  'tis  I  who  am  a-fire,  and  Fre  a  mind  to  ban 
myself  out,  so  no  cold  water. 

MRS.  D.  She  is  for  going  to  the  ball. 

PEGGY,  (to  KIT)  By  Mrs.  Deborah's  orders,  and  you're  to 
take  me,  but  I  must  see  I  know  how  to  move  my  feet  to  th« 
latest  tune.  So  do  you  play,  (she  fetches  the  fiddle  and  thrusts 
it  in  his  hands)  Quick,  quick,  dear  Kit.  Just  fancy  you 
are  my  partner,  and  I  am  your — your — lady-love. 

KIT.  Very  well,  Miss  Peggy.  Now,  right  over  thert, 
please,  (she  goes  extreme  L.)  Right  foot  forward.  Bend  low. 

He  strikes  a  chord,  then  makes  an  elaborate  bow.  8h* 
imitates  it,  then  he  commences  to  play  something  to 
Gavotte  time,  not  too  slowly,  dancing  and  calling 
out  directions.  This  dance  occupies  in  M  a&oiit 
52  ban  of  music.  PEGGY  gets  rapidly  into  tht 
*JM  dance,  and  MJU.  D.  stands 


MICK  AND  1OEK.  II 

At  Jfa  height  of  the  scene  the  door  is  pushed  open,  and 
CAPTAIN  LOVBLL  accompanied  by  SIR  HARRY  TRIMBLB* 
•TONK  stands  on  the  threshold.  SIR  HAKRT  is  a  dandy 
of  about  35.  LOVBLL  looks  a  little  older,  but  handsomer 
and  mors  commanding  than  in  Act  I, 

SIR  H.  (R.O.,  applauding)  Bravo  I  Bravo  t 

PZGOY  gives  a  loud  exclamation,  the  music  stops,  and  att 
turn  in  dismay. 

MRS.  D.  (down  L.  apologetically)  My  cousin  Kit  has  a 
taste  for  music,  gentlemen,  and  is  for  diverting  himself  and 
va  once  in  a  way.  But  I  beg  you'll  not  inform  on  us. 

LOVELL.  (coming  down  o.)  We  are  dumb  as  oysters,  Mrs. 
Deborah,  (she  curtseys,  then  crosses,  and  taking  KIT'S  arm, 
they  go  off  lotver  R.) 

LOVBLL.  (approaches  PEOGY  deferentially)  I  ask  youi 
pardon  for  our  intrusion. 

PEGGY.  (L.  coldly)  Oh,  it  does  not  matter,  seeing  yo« 
won't  tell. 

TRIMBLES-TONE  has  wandered  down  R.  and  is  ogling  PEGGY. 

LOVELL.  Since  my  uncle  is  not  here,  we'll  take  our  leave. 

SIR  H.  Hang  it  all,  not  till  I've  been  introduced. 

LOVELL.  (gimng  him  an  angry  glance)  Permit  me  to  present 
Sir  Harry  Trimblestone.  My  uncle's  ward,  Miss  Britain. 

SIR  H.  'Pon  honour,  I'm  charmed.  We're  a  pair  of  bung- 
lers to  have  cut  short  that  pretty  fandango.  Let's  have  the 
old  fellow  out  and  start  again,  (crosses  to  o.  towards  PEGGY) 
Spun  me,  if  I  don't  join  in  the  fling. 

LOVELL.  (twinging  him  back  to  R.)  Harry,  stop  it !  (to 
PEGGY)  The  rocking  of  the  coach  has  shifted  the  few  brains 
my  friend  started  with. 

SIR  H.  Coach  be  hanged  1  'Tis  the  glance  from  Beauty's 
•yes. 

LOVELL.  (o.  sternly)  Harry,  stop  it  1 

SIR  H.  (nudging  LOVELL)  Want  to  play  the  game  alone, 
eh,  Georgy?  Better  let  us  cut  for  it.  Well,  I'll  give 
you  the  deal,  but  hark  ye,  play  fair,  and  no  cheating  for 
the  odd  trick,  (bowing  to  PEGGY)  Au  revoir,  Miss  Britain. 
(she  curtseys,  TRIMBELSTONB  goes  up  to  door)  Oh,  but  you're  » 
*ly  dog,  Georgy,  a  sly  dog.  (exit) 

LOVELL.  Forgive  me  that  I  suffered  that  nincompoop  to 
enter.  That  you  would  ba  the  first  to  give  me  welcome, 
was  a  pleasure  I'd  not  counted  on. 

PEGGY,  (smiling)  Faith,  my  memory  must  be  very  bad,  fof 
1  do  not  remember  having  welcomed  you  at  alL 


82  MICE  AND  Ml*. 

LOVELL.  Then  'tU  not  too  late  to  repair  the  omission. 
(imtto) 

PEGGY.  (arcJdy)  True.  And  how,  sir,  trould  you  prefer  the 
eereraony  should  be  conducted  ?  (mukes  a  sweeping  curtsey^ 
mnd  affects  the  tone  of  a  fashionable  lady)  I  protest,  Captain 
Lovell,  that  the  sight  of  you  is  monstrous  pleasing.  Or  like 
this  ?  (takes  the  extended  hand)  Oh,  I  cannot  say  it  if  you 
look  so  serious.  What  is  the  matter  ?  Are  you  trying  to 
recall  my  features  ?  I  can't  have  changed  so  much. 

LOVELL.  (admiringly)  No  —  and  yet,  'tis  wonderful,  (turns) 

PEGGY.  I'm  glad  you  think  ine  improved,  (goes  to  him] 
Ton  do,  don't  you  ? 

LOVELL.  Improved?  Amazingly  improved,  (approaching 
Ker) 

PEGGY,  (backing  to  table)  Do  you  still  sing  and  play  on  the 
harpsichord  ? 

LOVELL.  (nodding)  When  I  find  an  inspiring  listener. 

PXGGY.  Ah,  you  remind  me,  I've  a  letter  for  you.  'Twaa 
left  in  my  charge.  Shall  I  fetch  it  ? 

LOVELL.  Nay,  I  warrant  it'll  keep,  (crosses  to  E.) 

PEGGY,  (following  him)  But  I  promised  to  give  it  to 
you. 

LOVELL.  (turning)  I'd  rather  you  gave  me  something  else. 
One  of  those  purple  hyacinths,  for  instance,  (points  to  her 


PEGGY,  (shaking  her  head)  I've  given  half  away  already. 

LOVELL.  To  a  man  1 

PEGGY,  (seriously)  To  the  best  man  in  the  whole  world. 

LOVELL.  Did  you  keep  the  shamrocks  ? 

PEGGY,  (as  if  trying  to  remember)  Shamrocks  t  (carelessly) 
Oh,  yours.  Of  what  use  is  it  to  keep  withered  blossoms  when 
one  may  gather  fresh  ?  (takes  advantage  of  his  turn  to  dart  to 
press  and  seize  the  green  book.  He  turns  abruptly,  and  she 
continue*  with  embarrassment)  You  had  better  let  me  give  you 
the  letter.  It  might  contain  a  message  from  —  er  —  from  youi 
lady  love,  (she  goes  to  the  press  and  stands  on  a  chair) 

L«VELL.  It  might  if  she  existed,  but  she  does  not  exist. 

PEGGY.  That  is  untrue.  Sister  Joanna  —  sweet  sister 
Joanna,  has  told  me  all  about  it. 

LOVBLL.  (in  alarm)  Joanna  has  told  you  t 

PEGOY.  About  your  friend,  your  lady  love.  Yes.  (she  geti 
the  letter  from  the  shelf)  Take  your  letter,  Captain  LuvelL 
(jumps  down  from  chair) 

LOVCLL.  (takiny  it  reluctantly)  Why  do  you  call  me  Captain 
Lovell  ?  Twas  George  two  years  ago. 

PEGOY.  Yes,  but  I've  improved  since  then.  "Amazingly 
"  (tnfrr  PJ&TKK  at  buck.  tit  carries  a  large 


MICE  AND  MEN.  S3 

fcufo*.      He  is  about  te  cross  to  B.)   What  IB  it,  Peter  !     (sht 

Ia-i/s  ^  6oo&  rfotcn) 

PETEE.  A  basket  sent  over  from  Mr.  Goodlake's.  Twill 
likely  be  the  yellow  turnips. 

PEGGY.  Leave  it  here,  so  I  may  attend  to  it.  (PETEm 
places  basket  down  and  goes  out  at  back.  Until  he  is  off  she 
stands  with  her  finger  on  her  lips,  smiling  mysteriously  at 
LOVELL,  then  she  bounds  towards  the  basket,  kneels,  undoes  the 
fastenings,  and  peeps  within,  then  springs  to  her  feet,  and 
claps  her  hands)  It  is  1  It  is  !  It  is  1 

LOVELL.  (in  perplexity)  IB  what  f 

PEGGY.  You  swear  you'll  not  tell  my  guardian  1 

LOVELL.  (solemnly)  I  swear. 

PEGGY.  It  is  a  prodigious  secret,  and  very  wicked.  I  aat 
going  to  the  Masquerade  Ball  to-night,  and  Mrs.  Goodlake 
has  lent  me  a  gown.  See  !  (she  opens  the  basket  and  pulls  out 
a  yellow  satin  gown,  a  mask,  and  a  jewel  box,  and  a  pair  of 
latin  shoes) 

LOVELL.  You'll  not  go  unattended  1 

PEGGY.  To  be  sure  not.  (proudly)  I  have  an  escort. 

LOVELL.  (starting)  An  escort !  How  dare  the  fellow  pre- 
sume ? 

PEGGY.  But  'twas  no  fault  of  Kit's.  I  insisted,  and  Mrs. 
Deborah  would  trust  me  with  none  other. 

LOVBLL.  (slightly  mollified)  Oh,  it's  Kit,  is  itt  'Tis  likely 
ke'd  not  object  if  I  played  deputy. 

PEGGY.  What  t    Are  you  then  going  to  the  ball  I 

LOVBLL.  If  you  are. 

PEGGY,  (coldly)  You  forget.  Your  lady  love  might  object, 
Fll  go  with  Kit,  I  thank  you.  And  meanwhile  I'll  leave  you 
alone  to  read  your  letter,  (she  gathers  up  all  the  finery  in  her 
arms,  then  after  curtseying,  she  goes  off  upper  R.  ;  she  returns 
immediately  and  seizes  the  green  book  which  she  had  forgotten. 
She  places  it  on  the  bundle  in  her  arms  and  again  goes  off\ 
LOVELL  glances  carelessly  at  the  letter  in  his  hand,  then  h* 
•pews  it.  He  is  standing  now  by  the  empty  basket) 

LOVELL.  Nay,  I'll  not  read  it,  but  send  it  whence  it  cam*. 
(crushes  the  letter,  tosses  it  into  the  basket  and  shuts  the  lid* 
then  kicks  basket  over  to  R.)  That  shall  be  my  answer. 

Enter  EMBURY  at  lack. 

EMBURY,  (warmly)  Ah,  nephew,  welcome,  welcome. 

LOVELL.  (R.,  going  forward)  Your  humble  servant,  sir, 
(starts  on  looking  at  EMBURY)  I  swear  I'm  under  a  spell,  or 
Ihe  pendulum  has  been  swinging  backward.  Everyone  I 
beet  seems  to  have  been  touched  by  a  magic  waud. 


S4  MTCT5   AND   WT5H. 

EMBURY,  (t'nnoeen'iy)  Strange,  yet  I  fancy  I've  remarked 
It  myself  Ti  probably  the  salubrity  of  the  climate — or  the 
water.  Our  water  is  uncommon  pure.  We  face  the  north, 
but  that  i»  corrected  in  my  new  abode. 

LOVELL.   So  you're  shifting  quarters,  sir. 

EMBURY,  (goes  to  chair  R.  of  table  nervously)  Yes,  the  truth 
Is,  I'm  contemplating  a  change  in  my  mode  of  life. 

LOVELL.    Indeed  ? 

EMBI  KY  Tis  a  man's  duty  to  marry,  George;  he  owet 
that  much  to — to — 

LOVELL.  To  his  offspring.  True,  sir,  I  take  yours  to  be  a 
•Utlden  resolution. 

EMBUHY.  On  the  contrary,  when  two  years  ago,  I  secured 
the  services  of  the  worthy  Mrs.  Deborah,  it  was  but  the  first 
Doove  in  a  well  considered  plan. 

LOVELL.  So  the  lady  is  already  an  inmate  of  your  house  1 
(I'.MBi  EY  nocU)  Is  she  aware  of  your  intentions  1 

EMBURY.  Not  yet.  Though  I  venture  to  hope  she  will  not 
be  averse  to  them. 

LOVBLL.  I  give  you  joy,  uncle.  And  from  the  little  I've 
•een  of  your  future  wife,  I  take  tke  liberty  of  pronouncing 
it  a  most  sensible  choice. 

EMBURY.  There  is  some  disparity  in  the  matter  of  years. 

LOVELL,  (cherrily)  She'll  be  the  better  qualified  to  do  her 
part. 

EMBURY,  (placing  a  hand  on  LOVILL'S  shoulder)  And  now 
we  must  to  your  affairs.  This  new  venture  will  not  disturb 
our  compact.  Tou  were  to  receive  a  settlement  on  your 
return.  If — if — Tell  me,  George,  can  you  with  a  clear  con- 
science, claim  the  reward  ? 

LOVBLL,  (earnestly)  I  can,  sir.     (they  clasp  hands) 
EMBURY.  Come,  we'll  to  the  study.     I'd  have  the  benefit 
of  your  judgment  in  the  matter  of  wall  papers,     (takes  hit 
•rm  and  goes  up  c.) 

LOVBLL.  (smiling)  Wall  papers  !  Had  you  not  best  con 
•ult  the  lady  who  is  destined  to  gaze  on  them,  sir  ? 

EMBURY.  No.  I'd  take  her  by  surprise  when  all  is  finished. 
Tis  hard  to  choose  a  flower  or  colour  for  one  who  loves  them 
all. 

LOVBLL.  Tet  she'll  surely  have  a  preference.     Think. 
EMBURY.    To   be  sure.     It  is  the  purple  hyacinth,     (he 
Hncuntciously  touches  those  in  his  coat) 
LOVELL.  (starting)  The  purple  hyacinth  t 
EMBURY.  Yes.    She  wears  them  in  her  bodice.     (LoviLi 
Averts  his  head,  overcome  by  his  discovery)    Come,  let  us  search 
the    patterns.     (LOVELL   remains  stuptfied ;     EMBURY 
fe  door)    What  U  it,  lad  f 


MICE  AND  MEN.  35 

LOYXLL.  Nothing,  sir,  except  I  hare  a  fancy  to  take  a  ttini 
alone  in  the  garden. 

EMBURY.  Alone?  (laughs)  Faith,  'tis  as  if  we  changed 
places.  Mark  Embury,  the  flighty  youth,  with  stern  George 
Lovell  for  his  uncle.  (Goes  out.  LOVELL  givet  a  glance  at  th* 
door  R.  then  with,  a  heavy  sigh,  strides  to  back  and  exits) 

(PiGOY  now  peep*  from  the  door  upper  R.  then  enter*  ;  th% 
has  put  on  the  satin  gown  ;  it  is  too  large,  and  she 
excitedly  tries  to  adjust  it  to  her  figure.  She  carries  th* 
mask  and  jewel  box  ,  after  placing  them  on  table,  sh* 
fetches  the  looking-glass  from  press,  and  hair  pad  from 
chair,  retuni*  to  the  table,  place*  the  looking-glass  ayainst 
the  small  flour  barrel,  which  is  stul  on  table.  She  then 
kneels,  pin*  the  hair  pad  on,  and  ctr  etches  her  curl* 
across  it) 

PIGGY,  (surveying  herself)  Tis  elegant,  but  where  can  I 
procure  the  powder  ?  (she  sighs,  rises,  and  catches  sight  of  thi 
flour  barrel ;  she  dips  her  hands  in  and  get*  some  flour,  with 
which  she  daubs  her  hair ;  Next  she  tries  the  mask,  then  remove* 
it)  Now  for  the  ornaments,  (opens  the  jewel  box)  I  warrant 
she  will  have  jewels — his  lady  love.  I  would  I  could  outshine 
her.  (takes  out  a  pair  of  earrings)  Earrings  !  How  beautiful  I 
If  only  I  could  wear  them.  I  wonder  if  it  is  so  hard  to  make 
holes  in  one's  ears,  (she  run*  to  MRS.  DEBORAH'S  workbasket, 
which  is  in  press  ;  she  finds  a  long  needle,  then  returns  to  tht 
mirror,  where  after  one  or  two  feints  she  plunges  the  needU 
into  her  ear,  and  immediately  gives  vent  to  a  loud  shriek. 

(Enter  LOVELL  quickly  at  back.  She  turn*  and  face*  him 
defiantly.) 

LOTILL.  I  thought  I  heard  a  cry. 

PEGGY.  Yes.  I  met  with  an  accident.  I  stuck  a  needle 
In  my  ear. 

LOVELL.  Go  and  remove  that  gown,  I  beg  of  you. 

PIGGY,  (petulantly)  'Tis  necessary  I  should  try  it  on,  if  it 
IB  to  fit.  (archly)  Think  you  it  becomes  me  ?  (crosses  to  B. 
trailing  and  surveying  her  train) 

LOVELL.  (L.)  Uncommonly  well,  yet  you  must  not  go  to 
the  Masquerade  in  it. 

PEGGY.  (R.)  In  what  then  ? 

LOVELL.  In  nothing,  (quickly)  I  mean  you  must  not  go 
at  all. 

PEGGY,  (coquettishly)  Unless  I  go  with  you.     Is  that  it  ! 

LOVELL.  I  -I — cannot.     1  dare  not  take  you  now. 

PEGGY.  ta*toni*hed)  Indeed  1     Yafc  'twas  only  a  short  tin* 


86  MICE  AND  MKJf. 

•face  you  seemed  so  anxious.  Perhaps  it  is  that  you're  hao! 
news  since  then. 

LOVELL.  Yes.     I  have  had — news — since  then. 

PEGGY.  What  news  ? 

LOVELL.  Tis  not  for  me  to  tell  you. 

PFOQT.  Yet  it  is  on  thin  account  you  dissuade  me  from 
the  ball,  (he  gravely  nods)  Then  maybe  I  fathom  it.  It  is 
that  she  is  for  going,  and  would  claim  your  whole  attention. 
Was  that  the  message  in  the  letter  ? 

LOVELL.  (perplexed)  The  letter?  (suddenly  remembering) 
Oh,  I  know  not  what  was  in  the  letter.  I  did  not 
read  it. 

PEGGY,  (quietly)  Then  you  are  not  going  to  marry 
her? 

LOVELL.  Her? 

PEGGY.  The  lady  Mrs.  Goodlake  did  refer  to. 

LOVELL.  (smiling)  No.  There  is  a  most  decided  obstacle. 
(aside)  Thank  God  1 

PEGGY.  But  you  will  marry  somebody — some  day  ? 

LOVBLL.  Oh  yes.  If  Fate  decrees  it.  But  I  warrant  you 
It  will  be  no  love  match,  now. 

PEGGY.  What  for  will  you  marry  then? 

LOVBLL.  (recklessly)  Who  knows?  For  money — position- 
to  please  my  uncle,  may  be.  (laughs  bitterly)  Yes,  that's  it, 
It  shall  be  for  money,  Peggy — for  money,  and  my  uncle  may 
choose  the  bride. 

PEGGY.  In  the  meantime  I  tee  no  reason  you  should 
forego  the  ball. 

LOVELL.  I  must  forego  it,  and  so  must  you. 

PEGGY,  (hotly)  And  if  I  refuse  ? 

LOVELL.  Then  I  must  try  and  forget  that  yon  have  made 
•ae  your  secret  confidant. 

PEGGY.  You  will  tell  my  guardian  I 

LOVELL.  You  know  that  I  will  never  do  so. 

PEGOY.  (lightly)  Then  I  shall  go. 

LOVBLL.  Then  I  must  go  with  you  to  see  yon  come  to  no 
•aischief. 

PEGOY.  What  I  You'd  make  a  duty  of  it.  Nay,  I'm  not 
Inclined  to  have  your  sacrifice,  (laugh*,  half  hysterically)  I 
warrant  you.  I'll  not  go  begging  for  a  partner,  (storming) 
How  dare  you  think  I  ever  meant  to  let  you  take  me  f 
(playfully)  You  must  have  a  fine  conceit  of  yourself.  (Begin* 
to  cry)  You  may  go— or  stay  as  you  pleaae,  but  I  vow  I'll  not 
speak  to  you  the  whole  night,  and  so  you  may  be  free  to 
•njoy  your  "ardent  welcome."  Oh,  I  wager  she'll  be  there, 
and  so  shall  I,  mark  you.  (itumjM  her  foot,  sttil  crying)  So 
•hall  L 


MICE  AND  MEN.  87 

(The  back  door  opens,  and  EMBURY  enters.  PEGGY  Kas  for 
back  turned,  but  hearing  the  door  open,  she  quickly  goes 
off  upper  R.  ;  and  as  EMBURY  comes  down  he  is  in  tim* 
to  catch  a  full  view  of  the  yellow  silk  train,  as  it  escapes 
through  the  door.  His  brow  contracts,  and  he  looks  at 
LOVELL  as  if  for  an  explanation.  There  is  a  pause. 
EMBURY  carries  in  his  hand  small  rolls  of  wall  paper) 

EMBURY.  I  thought  you  went  to  walk  in  the  garden. 

LOVELL.  I  returned. 

EMBURY,  (with  a  motion  towards  the  door  R.)  You  dismiss 
your  visitors  rather  unceremoniously. 

LOVELL.  (quietly)  I  have  had  no  visitors,  sir. 

EMBURY.  When  neighbours  come  to  wait  upon  my  house- 
hold— or  myself,  they  are  not  ashamed  to  go  out  by  the 
chief  door. 

LOVBLL.  I  did  not  say  there'd  been  a  neighbour  here. 

EMBURY.  Neither  my  ward  nor  my  housekeeper  are  wont 
to  drag  a  couple  of  yards  of  silken  train  behind  them. 
(angrily)  I  protest,  sir,  against  having  my  house  used  for 
candlestine  meetings. 

LOVELL.  And  I  deny  having  used  it  for  such  a  purpose. 

EMBURY.  Then  the  lady  who  had  so  evident  a  wish  to 
femain  undiscovered,  was — 

LOVELI,.  I  cannot  tell  you,  uncle. 

EMBURY.  Your  answer  is  sufficient.  That  this  intimacy 
remains  unbroken  is  vile  enough,  (raises  his  voice)  But  that 
you  should  have  given  me  the  lie  just  now — should  have 
sought  to  trick  and  cheat  me,  that  I  might  replenish  your 
resources,  is — 

LOVELL.  (emphatically)  Hold,  sir  1 

Enter  GOODLAKB  at  back. 

GOOD.  Hallo  1  Who  is  it  that's  training  his  lungs  for  the 
post  of  town  crier?  Gad,  is  it  you,  Lovell?  Then  I've 
missed  the  coach  and  Harry  too.  (to  EMBURY)  Has  Joanna 
been  here  ? 

EMBURY,  (hesitating)  I  have  but  this  moment  feffc  my 
itudy,  but  Captain  Lovell  may  be  able  to  tell  you. 

LOVKLL.  I  have  not  seen  her. 

(EMBURY  stares  at  him  with  contempt.  Enter  MRS. 
DEBORAH  lower  R.  with  table  cloth,  which  she  places  in 
press) 

GOOD.  Have  you  seen  aught  of  my  wife,  Mrs.  Deborah  ? 
MRS.  D.  Aye,  she  was  here  a  short  while  since.      She  left 
fey  the  aide  door  and  went  across  the  yard,     (exit  it.) 


88  MICE   AND  ME*. 

GOOD.  Got  tired  of  waiting  for  me,  111  be  sworn.  Com* 
Vack  home  with  me,  Lovell,  and  break  the  back  of  her  spleen. 

EMBURY.  'Tis  impossible.  Captain  Lovell  is  suddenly 
tecalled  to  town.  He  leaves  here  on  the  moment. 

GOOD,  (in  surprise)  Eh,  what's  that  ? 

LOVELL.  (proudly)  It  is  as  my  uncle  has  said.  I  leave  thii 
house  on  the  moment.  I  bid  you  good  day,  Mr.  Goodlak«. 
(form*  to  EMBURY)  And  you,  Sir,  good-bye,  (goes  out  abr*ptij ; 
GOODLAKE  raises  his  eyebrows  and  whistles) 

GOOD.  What's  up,  man  ?  Has  he  been  poaching  on  your 
preserves?  Strike  me,  if  I  haven't  expected  it  all  along. 
(EMBURY  gives  him,  a  silencing  look,  and  he  quickly  changes  the 
tubject)  Well,  did  you  get  the  turnips  ?  (turns  and  sees  basket) 
Yes,  and  damme,  if  they  haven't  sent  'em  in  my  best 
travelling  hamper,  (crosses  to  R.)  Here,  help  me  unload. 
(pulls  basket  towards  him  and  slightly  raises  the  lid)  Why,  'til 
unloaded  already.  Then  I'll  bear  it  back. 

EMBU-RY.  Let  Peter  carry  it. 

GOOD.  Nay,  if  a  man  would  have  no  tricks  played  on  hi§ 
property,  he'd  best  keep  his  eye  on't.  As  for  you,  Mark 
Embury,  you  take  my  advice.  Marry  the  baggage,  and  so  put 
her  out  of  harm's  way.  (goes  up  to  door)  Remember  the  lines 
of  our  new  Scotch  poet — "The  best  laid  schemes  of  Mice 
and  Men  gang  aft  agley."  (exit.  EMBURY  closes  door  after 
GOODLAKE,  then  goes  down  thoughtfully  to  table,  and  unrolU 
fcts  patterns  of  watt  paper) 

EMBURY.  Poor  Roger  1  (enter  PEGGY  R.  She  has  returned 
Ker  ordinary  attire)  Ah,  Peggy  1  I  am  glad  you  are  come  in. 
(looks  at  her  tenderly)  Do  you  know  why  ?  (unrolls  paper  and 
places  it  on  the  table) 

PEGGY.  It  is  because  you  are  alone.  Of  late  you  have  no* 
eared  so  much  to  be  alone. 

EMBURT.  You've  noticed  that,  have  you?  'Tis  strange 
how  a  man  may  change,  Peggy.  Aye,  even  a  Philosopher. 

PEGGY.  Are  you  a  Philosopher,  guardian  ? 

EMBURY.  I've  held  myself  to  be  such,  (timidly)  But  there 
are  times  when  I  am  crossed  by — by  doubt. 

PEGGY,  (reflectively)  I've  noticed  the  doubts  too. 

EMBURY,  (smiling)  You  have  grown  to  be  a  minute  oe> 
server. 

PEGGY.  One  always  does  those  one  loves. 

EMBURY,  (rising)  And  you  love  me  f  (eayfrly) 

PBGOY.  Indeed  I  do. 

EMBURY,  (fervently)  God  bless  you,  pretty  one.  (placet  kit 
land  on  her  head) 

PEGGY,  (beginning  to  cry)  Oh,  please  don't. 

KMAWBT.  (rtoritaf)  Why  nofet    Why  not,  Peggy  1 


MICE  AND  MBit  89 

PEOOT.  (crying)  I  don't  deserve  It.  am  eo — so  mon* 
•trous  wicked. 

EMBURY,  (relieved)  Dear,  dear,  dear.  Is  that  all?  So  yon 
are  monstrous  wicked,  are  you  ?  (smiles  and  places  a  chair, 
which  he  takes  from  writing-table  at  back)  Perhaps  your 
morals  will  grow  stronger,  if  they're  allowed  to  sit.  (she  sits) 

PEGGY,  (suddenly)  I  promise  you  I  shall  be  quite  good  to- 
morrow, and  ever — ever  afterwards. 

EMBUEY.  (in  mock  seriousness)  Then  I  don't  know  but  what 
Satan  is  entitled  to  to-day,  (he  takes  chair  from  large  taU* 
and  sits  near  PEGGY)  You  remember  that  a  while  ago  I  spoke 
of  something  I  had  to  tell  you. 

PEGGY.  I  fancy  I  have  since  divined  it.  You  planned  to 
•urprise  me,  did  you  not  ? 

EMBURY.  If  you  are  not  surprised,  then  will  my  task  be 
easier.  Have  you  ever  dreamed,  child  1  (she  nods)  So  have 
I.  Some  time  ago  I  dreamed  an  all  absorbing  dream.  It 
involved  the  training  of  a  girl  to  my  idea  of  perfect  woman- 
hood. In  working  out  my  plan  I  may  have  straye<3  somewhat 
from  the  letter  of  my  intention,  but  the  spirit  I  preserved. 
(touches  her  hand  carelessly)  Yes,  the  spirit  is  preserved,  for 
the  maid  is  all — all — (with  a  little  sigh)  well,  all  I  wish  her. 
Still  my  design  is  incomplete,  till  the  maid  becomes  a  wife. 
(softly)  So  you  see  it  rests  with  her  to  waken  me,  or  bid  me 
dream  on — happily  on,  for  ever,  (rises}  I  had  not  intended 
to  tell  you  my  dream  story  so  soon,  but  it  has  been  pointed 
out  to  me  that  the  time  has  come  when  you  should  have  a 
more  absolute  protection  than  that  of  a  mere  guardian,  (goes 
doivn  L.  o.) 

PEGGY,  (thoughtfully)  And  is  that  why  you  sent  for  him 
to  come  here  ? 

EMBURY,  (turning)  Sent  for  whom  ? 

PEGGY,  (in  a  low  voice)  Captain  George. 

EMBURY.  Not  precisely.  Though  'tis  true  that,  believing 
him  worthy,  I  just  now  confided  something  of  my  plans  to 
him. 

PEGGY,  (starting  up)  You  told  him  what  you  had  in  mind  1 
(EMBURY  nods— she  droops  her  head)  And  the  n«j*rs  shocked 
—disappointed  him,  did  it  not  ? 

EMBURY.  On  the  contrary,  he  seemed  well  pleased. 

PEGGY,  (looking  up)  You  mean  that  he  agreed  I  (her  eyu 
flash)  Ah  1  You  offered  him  money — money  1 

EMBURY.  I  promised  him  a  settlement. 

PEGGY.  And  for  that  he  pretended  he  was  willing — (asidt) 
to  marry  me. 

EMBURY.  I  scarce  see  the  importance  of  his  opinion  on 
the  subject.  The  present  and  vital  question  is  your  willing- 


40  MICE  AND  MEN. 

ness.  The  delicacy  of  my  position  renders  it  impassible  1 
should  plead  with,  or  urge  you,  for  a  sense  of  gratitude 
might  impel  you  fco  that  which  would  render  you  miserable. 
And  so,  pretty  one,  if  you  say  yes,  your  heart  must  echo 
your  tongue,  else  you  will  make  me  wretched  also.  Look 
at  me,  child.  See  how  I  hang  on  your  reply. 

PEGGY,  (bewildered)  Am  I  then  to  give  it  to  you  ? 

EMBUBY.  Surely.    To  whom  else? 

PEGGY  (shaking  her  head)  Then  it  is — is — No !  (hit  face 
falls)  I'll  form  no  part  of  his  plan  to  get  money.  Tell  him 
that  I  do  not  love  him.  (EMBUBY  lo*jks  startled)  Nay,  that  I 
hate  him — hate  him.  (bursts  into  tears,  then  turns  on  a 
sudden  impulse)  But  don't— don't — let  him  believe  it.  Oh, 
you  understand,  (throws  herself  in  a  Jit  of  hysterical  weeping 
into  EMBURY'S  arms) 

EMBUBY.  Yes.  I— I — understand,  (to  himself)  '*  The 
best  laid  schemes  of  Mice  and  Men."  (he  stands  calmly 
gazing  into  ipace,  and  stroking  her  hair  gently,  09  U*  curio** 

JM) 

fiprfi  ot  few  Aofe 


MICE  AND  MEN,  41 


ACTHI. 

— The  Masquerade  Ball  at  Belsize  House.  The  ant* 
room,  with  a  view  of  the  gardens  lighted  by  coloured  lantern* 
at  back;  door  leading  to  cardroom  at  upper  L. ;  wide  door 
or  arch  leading  to  ballroom  at  upper  R.  ;  chair  down  L.v 
omother  near  arch. 

A*  curtain  rises  a  noise  of  money  being  thrown  and 
laughter  from  cardroom  and  exclamations  **  Try 
again,"  **  ^o,  no  /  "  "  I'll  bet  a  guinea,''  etc.  ;  instru- 
ments are  being  tuned  in  the  ballroom,  and  at  back 
there  is  a  group  of  gaily  dressed  girls  and  rakish-looking 
men ;  some  have  fancy  costumes,  some  wear  masks ; 
they  are  loudly  laughing  and  exchanging  greetings  ; 
presently  one  girl  breaks  away,  then  enters  and  goes 
towards  ballroom,  saying  :  "  Oh,  very  well,  then  I'll 
dance  by  myself"  ;  one  of  the  men  run*  after  her;  then 
m  girl  with  two  men  follow.  They  all  go  off  R..  The 
others  remain  at  back  o.  SIR  HARRY  TRIMBLESTONK, 
accompanied  by  a  fair  and  a  dark  girl,  enters  o.,  pushing 
kis  way  through  the  group  ;  then  the  group  disperses— 
all  except  two — one  man  and  one  woman  ;  these  fallout 
SIR  HARRY  on  and  stand  near  sofa,  talking  to  two 
others  who  rise. 

Sin  H.  (dropping  the  girls'  arms)  Nay,  my  charmers,  I 
Berer  take  more  than  one  partner  at  a  time.  Ill  to  the 
cardroom  arid  cut,  to  see  which  of  you,  diamonds  or  spades, 
has  first  choice  of  me. 

Group  at  sofa  laugh  and  chat  ;  SIB  HARRY  exit* 
upper  L.  and  it  greeted  with  shouts  from  within: 
"Hal  Here's  Harry/  He'll  change  the  luck." 
"Throw  him  out."  "No,  no,"  etc.  The  two  girl* 
glance  disdainfully  after  SIR  HARRY;  one  says  " The 
idea— but  who  cares?"  the  other  says  "Notl."  An 
old  Beau  now  enters  at  back  ;  he  approaches  them  and 

toys,  **  Ladies,  can  you  tell  me ;  "  they  seize  him, 

•neon  each  side,  one  says  "  Yes,  we'll  tell  you,"  the 
other  '  *  Better,  we'll  show  you  ; "  they  run  him  off  to 
ballroom ;  group  follows  and  stands  in  entrance.  Enter  at 
back  KIT  BARNIGER  with  his  fiddle ;  he  is  accompanied 
by  PEGGY  in  the  yellow  satin  gown  and  powdered  /voir  J 
the  earrie*  her  mask. 


M  MICK  AND  KM, 

KIT.  (going  down  B.)  Come  along,  Miss  Peggy. 

PBGOY.  (L.,  excitedly)  Oh,  'tis  the  divinest  place  tmdeff 
heaven,  Kit.  Though  I  had  not  thought  there  were  quite  so 
many  people  in  the  world.  You  must  find  me  a  partner. 

KIT.  (perplexed)  A  partner  ? 

PEGGY.  To  be  sure,  and  right  quickly.  And  hark  ye  : 
he  must  engage  to  pay  me  most  marked  attention  ;  so  go  and 
procure  me  a  pleasing  young  man,  no — old  man — no,  young 
man— (turns)  which,  think  you,  is  the  more  dependable 
when  it  comes  to  makiug  spurious  love?  (music  starts  • 
garotte) 

KIT.  (thoughtfully)  I  protest — I  think  they  are  equally 
proficient  there,  (group  exits  to  ballroom) 

PBOOT.  (going  to  back  and  looking  ojf  B.)  Look  at  the 
millions  of  lights.  And  hear  the  music.  Oh,  Kit,  it  is 
more  diverting  even  than  church,  (he  moves  down  B.,  shi 
follows  closely)  You  are  not  going  yet  ?  (he  halts)  It  isn't  thai 
I'm  frightened,  (tremblingly)  But  I— I — like  not  to  be  left 
alone  »he  draws  him  down  o.) 

Two  more  enter  from  back  and  exit  to  ballroom. 

Krr.  No,  no,  but  the  dance  is  on,  and  I  am  much  belated. 
(he  begins  mechanically  to  move  to  the  music)  Oh,  dearie  me  1 
Wait  1  I'll  find  you  a  seat  near  the  musicians,  where  yo» 
may  sit  and  watch. 

PEGGY,  (tossing  her  head)  Faith  1  I'm  not  come  to  ball  t» 
•it  in  a  corner  and  watch  ;  so  hurry  and  capture  me  a  partner. 

Enter  SIB  HARRY  TRIMBLESTONB  from  cardroom. 

SIB.  H.  (o.,  overhearing)  Spun  me,  but  that  were  an  easy 
task,  (starts)  As  I  live,  'tis  the  little  Britain  1  (bows  and 
tomes  between  them) 

PEGGY,  (suddenly)  Why,  you'll  do  splendidly. 

SIB  H.  Do  ?  I'll  wager  I'm  done  for  already.  Shall  I 
have  the  honour  of  the  next  gavotte,  most  lovely  Peggy  ? 

PEGGY.  In  truth  you  shall,  (crosses  to  B.)  You  may  go,  Kit, 
Bir  Harry  will  take  care  of  me  till  you  return,  (aside  to  KIT) 
If  I  take  fright  at  him,  I'll  scream  out.  (exit  KIT,  B.  ;  turns) 
Tou  are  surprised  to  see  me  here  ? 

SIB  H.  (L.)  A  meeting  with  Hebe  herself  had  not  more 
•taggered  me. 

PEGGY.  (B.  ,  shaking  her  head)  I  am  not  acquainted  with 
Hebe,  but  your  cousin,  Mistress  Ooodlake,  is  she  not  here  1 

SIR  H.  Joanna  1  Lord,  I  wager  not. 

PBGOY.  You  speak  as  if  'twere  not  a  proper  plao*.  VV'hj, 
Ihea  are  you  here  yourself  t 


AND  MI9.  48 

SIR  H.  There's  a  difference,  my  pretty  one.  Hang  me, 
If  I  don't  believe  you  stole  away  on  the  chance  of  meeting 
me. 

PIGQY.  (laughing  and  hacking)  Think  you  that?  Then 
you  are  even  a  sillier  man  than  I  first  conceived  you.  I 
believe  T  came  because  one  who  had  no  right  to  my 
obedience  ventured  to  forbid  it. 

SIR  H.  Was  it  Mr.  Embury  ? 

PEOGY.  (loftily)  No.  Had  he  forbidden  me,  I  should  not 
nave  come.  And  that  is  why  I  took  care  he  should  know 
nothing  about  it.  (two  girls  and  a  man  cross  at  back  from  R. 
to  L.,  pausing  an  instant  at  the  opening  ;  LOVELL  appears  at 
the  back,  he  stands  looking  among  the  pr<>m<naders ;  PEGGY 
tu^ns  and  sees  him,  she  then  turns  to  SIR  HARRY  and  runs  on 
in  a  loud  voice)  You  flatter  me,  Sir  Harry,  (he  looks  astonished) 
Though  your  remarks  are  vastly  pleasing. 

LOVF.LI,,  attracted  by  her  voice,  comes  down, ;  the  music  if 
heard  faintly. 

LOVELL.  (L.)  Ah,  Harry,  so  'tis  you,  eh  t 

SIR  H.  (c.)  It  is,  and  curse  you  for  a  meddler. 

LOVELL.  It  seems  I've  just  come  in  time  —in  time  to 
relieve  you.  Miss  Britain  will  be  my  charge  for  the  rest  of 
the  evening,  (crosses  to  0.) 

SIR  H.  (L.)  You  ride  a  high  horse,  sir. 

LOVELL.   (significantly)  1  ride  nothing  T'm  not  master  of. 

SIR  H,  (smiling)  Except  your  temper,  eh— Georgy  ?  I'll 
return  anon — and  claim  from  Miss  Britain  the  fulfilment  of 
her  promise —  (bows) — till  our  gavotte,  (exit  to  cardroom  ; 
there  it  an  embarrassed  pause,  then  LOYELL  turns  to  PEGGY 
wry  authoritatively) 

LOVELL.  (L.)  You  will  put  on  your  mask. 

PEGGY.  (R.)  I  will,  when  it  so  pleases  me.  (he  turns  away 
m**grily  to  chair)  I  thought  you  had  gone  to  London. 

LOVELL.  Pardon  me,  but  you  knew  to  the  contrary.  Your 
obstinate  determination  to  come  here 

PEGGY.  Compels  you  to  postpone  your  departure,  (he 
bows)  You  are  quite  sure  you  are  come  here  to  look  at  me  ? 

LOVELL.  (brusquely)  Not  to  look  at  you,  but  to  look  after 
you  1 

PEGGY,  (sarcastically)  I'm  profoundly  grateful,  but  as  I 
do  not  need  your  protection,  you  are  excused — you  «• 
excused,  (she  waves  him  away,  he  remains  perfectly  still,  shs 
tnoves  towards  ballroom,  he  follows  her  ;  she  halts  abruptly) 
Where  would  you  go  ? 

LOYBLL.  (folding  hit  arm*)  Where  you  fro. 


44  KIOE  AND  HEN* 

PEOOT.  (petulantly)  Then  I  go  nowhere.  I  thall  stay  her** 
kro&set  to  B.  ;  he  bows)  Perhaps  you'd  not  object  should  I  ail 
aown  ?  (he  or  out*  behind  her,  takes  the  chair  and  placet  it  with 
m  jerk  at  her  back  ;  then  he  fetches  the  chair  R.  for  himself ;  they 
lit ;  there  it  a  pause  ;  business)  What  did  you  say  ? 

LOVKLL.  (B.)  I  said  nothing. 

PEGOY.  (L.)  'Tis  a  good  plan  when  one  knows  not  how  to 
talk  divertingly.  ( pause)  It  is  an  uncommon  fine  evening. 

LOVELL.  Is  that  my  first  lesson  in  the  art  of  oonrersation  t 

PEOOY.  (after  another  pause)  Why  did  you  leave  our  house 
•o  abruptly  to-day  ? 

LOVELL.  My  uncle  gave  me  no  invitation  to  remain. 

PEGGY.  But  there  was  a  dispute,  was  there  not  I 

LOVELL.  He  told  you  so  much,  eh  ? 

PEOOY.  No  ;  he  did  not  mention  you.  (pauses  and  blushes) 
Save  once.  And  then,  he  wandered  from  the  house ;  nor 
have  I  seen  him  since. 

LOVELL.  Then  how— 

PEGGY.  Before  you  left  I  heard  angry  voices,  and  the 
words  "  trick  "  and  "  cheat  "  reached  my  ears. 

LOVELL.  Do  you  know  in  what  manner  I  cheated  him  t 

PEGGY.  No  ;  but  I  fancy  it  was  about  a  woman. 

LOVELL.  Yes  ;  it  was  about  a  woman. 

PEOOY.  (  pauses)  The  woman  you  are  in  love  with  ? 

LOVELL.  Yes ;  the  quarrel  was  concerning  the  woman  I 
am  in  love  with. 

PEGGY.  IB  she  here  to-night  1 

LOVELL.  Yea. 

PEOOY.  Why  don't  you  seek  her  t 

LOVELL.  I  have  sought  her  already. 

PEGGY.  And  cannot  find  her.  (rises)  That  is  why  yon  came 
to  me.  I  pray  you  go  and  send  Sir  Harry  Trimblestone 
back  to  me. 

LOVELL.  (rising)  I'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  Harry  is  no 
fit  companion  for  you.  (swings  hit  chair  back  to  its  original 
position) 

PEGGY,  (laughing)  On  that  I  don't  agree.  I  think  him 
most  bewitching. 

LOVELL.  (angrily)  Such  an  avowal  should  shame  a  girl  who 
Is  all  but  betrothed. 

PEGGY,  (raising  her  eyebrows)  All  but  betrothed  I 

LOVELL.  You  must  be  aware  that  my  uncle — your  guardian 
—has  formed  certain  plans.  That  he  has  hopes  of 

PKGGY.  Oh  yes,  but  I  scarce  favour  the  notion  of  having  * 
husband  ehosen  for  me.  (crosses  to  B.) 

LOVELL.  (L.  with  a  glance  of  hopeful  expectation)  You 
FOU  will  decline 


MICE  AND  MI*.  45 

P«OOT.  (indignantly)  You  appear  uncommon  relieved   at 

the  thought. 

LOVBLL.  I  am,  sweet  Peggy — I  am — because 

PEGGY,  (almost  crying  with  indignation)  Then  how  dart 

you,  sir,  have  the  audacity 

General  murmur  in  ballroom  with  following  snatches  f 
"The  garden"— "Fes."— "No."  — "Come  along."— 
•'  Wait."— "Ha,  ha!  "  etc. 

LOVELL.  (with  contrition)  Forgive  ra«  !  Indeed,  I  had  no 
thought  to  offend  you.  Sh  !  the  dancers  are  coming.  Put 
on  your  mask,  and  I  will  show  you  the  gardens. 

PEGGY,  (putting  on  mask)  No ;  I  am  going  to  Eat.  He 
is  looking  for  me. 

LOVELL.  But  you'll  let  me  lead  you  through  the  next 
dance  ? 

PEGGY.  I  see.     You'll  dance  with  me  if  she  do  not  come  t 

LOVELL.  I  know  no  she — and  I'll  dance  with  you  or  none 

PEGGY,  (coquettishly)  Sure  ? 

LOVELL.  Sure.  You'll  find  me  here.  You  will  com« 
back  ? 

PEGOY.  (coquettishly)  Perhaps,  (goes  and  returns)  Sure  t 

LOVBLL.  Sure. 

PEGGY.  Then — perhaps (goes) 

The  old  man  with  one  of  the  girls  comes  back  from  ball  • 
room  to  garden,  followed  by  the  other  girl  and  two  men  ; 
one  of  them  nods  to  LOVELL,  they  go  off  to  gardens  ; 
two  girls  and  man  cross  from  L.  to  R. ;  two  men  com* 
from  cardroom  and  go  off  back  L.,  joining  others  who 
are  passing  and  rtpassing  at  back  ;  after  returning  nod 
LOVELL  walks  across  meditatively  from  R.  to  L. 

LOVELL.  (walking  across)  She  said  perhaps  ;  then  I'll  wait, 
(as  he  does  so  JOANNA  GOODLAKE  enters  from  back ;  she  seet 
LOVELL  ;  as  he  turns  again  to  cross  to  R.  she  puts  on  her  raasfc, 
tteps  down  and  touches  him  on  shoulder) 

JOANNA.  (B.  tenderly)  George  !  (he  turns  with  a  joyfid 
exclamation) 

LOVELL.  (L.)  What!  Back  so  soon?  (JOANNA  unmask^ 
and  he  steps  back  in  surprise) 

.JOANNA.  Back  ?  I've  this  moment  come,  and  it  would 
Beem  I  had  taken  you  unawares. 

LOVBLL.  'Tis  a  surprise,  I  own. 

JOANNA.  So  you  did  not  get  my  invitation  ?  Then  how 
conies  it  you  are  here  ? 

LOVELL.  (hesitatingly)  I  came  because  I— I—— 


KICK  AWT> 

You    had   a  premonition  1M  be  here, 
mentally)  It  has  been  a  lifetime,  George,  since  you've  been 
gone. 

LOVELL.  (prosaically)  No — only  two  years.  How  doei 
everybody  ?  How  does  Mr.  Goodlake  t 

JOANNA,  (with  an  uneasy  laugh)  Mr.  Goodlake  1  In  truth 
I  scarce  know.  Though  I  had  asked  him  had  I  divined  your 
anxiety,  (he  half  turns  away  towards  L.)  What  is  the  matter, 
George  ?  'Twas  not  thus  you  acted  at  our  last  meeting. 

LOVELL.  (uncomfortably)  No,  no,  but  we've  grown  older— 
and  wiser  (crosses  to  R.C.) 

JOANNA,  (jealously)  Is  it  that  another  has  supplanted  me  T 
Think  you  I'll  be  put  aside  so  ?  (suddenly)  Ah  !  I  remember 
— you  said  "  back  so  soon  1 "  Your  greeting,  then,  was  not 
for  me.  Tell  me,  who  is  she— who  is  she,  I  say  ? 

LOVBLL.  There  is — there  is  no  one. 

JOANNA,  (softening)  Then  you  love  me  still,  George  1 
And  all  is  as  it  used  to  be  ? 

LOVELL.  No  !  All  is  at  an  end.  (she  starts)  I  have  given 
•ay  word  to  that  effect,  (crosses  to  L.) 

JOANNA,  (jealously)  To  whom? 

LOVELL.  To  my  uncle. 

JOANNA.  You  dared  to  let  him  know  t 

LOVELL.  He  suspected  it  long  ago,  without  my  help. 
To-day  he  asked  me  if  the  past  was  buried.  I  told  him  yes. 
I — I  meant  it. 

JOANNA,  (bitterly)  So — so  it  is  your  purse  that  is  my  rival, 
eh  ?  How  much  did  he  guarantee,  to  make  you  throw  me 
over  ?  (he  turns  away  impatiently  ;  she  changes  her  tone)  Nay, 
forgive  me— I  did  not  mean  it  1  I  vow  my  heart  is  broken, 
George — I  pray  you  do  not  turn  from  me.  I  cannot  bear  it. 
(the  bursts  into  tears  and  faUt  on  her  knees) 

LOVELL.  (he  raises  her)  Hush  !  Think  where  you  are. 
(PEOOY  re-enters  from,  ballroom  unperceived,  she  has  her 
domino  over  her  arm,  she  stands  aghast  at  the  picture  befurt 
her  ;  JOANNA,  still  tabbing,  has  her  head  on  Lev  ELL'S  shoulder ; 
he  tries  to  soothe  her)  For  Heaven's  sake,  Joanna,  calm 
yourself. 

JOANNA.  'Tis  easy  said.  I  have  stooped  to  falsehood  and 
strategy.  I  have  worshipped  you,  and  this  is  the  end.  (sob*) 

PEOOT  steals  silently  off  at  back  ;  a  noise  issues  from  th» 
wardroom  with  these  expressions:  **  Two  to  on«  in 
guineas."  "  The  bet's  off"  tU. 

LOVELL.  Somebody  oomes.  Quick  1  On  with  your  uutak  ! 
(the  hurriedly  putt  her  matk  on) 


MICE  AND  MEN.  4? 

Enter  SIB  HABBY  TBIMBLESTONB  from  cardroom  ;  «tusta 
recommence*. 

SIB  H.  Sink  the  cards  I  (sees  them)  How  now,  Georgie  I 
I  think  you've  had  your  innings,  and  'tis  my  turn.  I've  just 
been  bubbled  of  a  goodly  stake  and  I  seek  consolation,  (ht 
approaches)  This  lady  owes  me  a  dance ;  so  get  you  gone. 
Retire. 

LOTBLL.  (bowing)  With  her  permission,  (goes  off  to  ball* 
room  ;  JOANNA  tears  off  her  mask  and  faces  SIR  HARBT 
defiantly) 

SIB  H.  (staring  in  amazement)  Joanna  1     By  all  that's— 

JOANNA.  Aye,  Joanna  I  Whom  thought  you  to  find  hert 
with  him  1  Tell  me  that. 

SIB  H.  Gad,  cousin,  not  you,  on  my  life.  Crib  ma,  if  I 
know  whether  to  pronounce  it  mirth  or  madness. 

JOANNA.  Tell  me  what  I  asked.     Who  is  she  ? 

SIB  H.  Lord,  but  I'm  a  man  of  honour. 

JOANNA.  So  be  it.  When  next  you've  gambled  youw 
pocket  bare,  and  are  for  having  me  bespeak  Mr.  Goodlake'i 
generosity— I'll  be  a  woman  of  honour.  Coine  !  Is  it  yet 
or  no — who  is  she  t 

PEGGY  re-enters  from  back,  she  carries  her  mask  and  cloak. 

SIB  H.  Sh  !    She  is  here. 

JOANNA,  (falling  back  to  B.)  As  I  live,  the  foundling  brat  I 
(loudly  to  PEGGY)  Come  here,  you.  (PEGGY  halts,  then  tosset 
her  cloak  on  chair) 

SIR  H.  I've  promised  Miss  Britain  this  dance,  and  I'll 
wager  she  has  come 

PEGGY,  (stepping  down)  To  excuse  you,  Sh  Harry. 

SIB  H.  But  damme,  as  a  man  of  honour 

PEQGY.  You'll  give  place  to  a  lady  ;  and  you  must  perceive 
that  your  cousin  desires  to  speak  with  me. 

SIB  H.  As  you  please,  (bows  and  gots  off  at  back) 

JOANNA,  (fiercely)  You  shameless  creature !  You  carat 
here  not  to  look  for  Sir  Harry — but  for  George  Lovell, 

PEGGY.  You  are  right.  I  wished  to  release  him  from 
further  attendance  on  me.  (going  towards  L.) 

JOANNA.  So  you  watched — you  have  seen- 

PEGGY.  I  have  seen  no  pleasant  sight ;  of  that  I  do  assure 
you,  madam. 

JOANNA.  Poor  little  fool  1  If  you  had  half  your  wits,  you 
had  guessed  it  long  ago.  And  so  you  thought  to  have  out 
me  out,  eh  t  And  could  not  see  that  if  he  paid  you  atten- 
tions, 'twas  but  to  secure  your  services  as  a  go-between. 


48  MICE  AND  MEJT. 

PECWT.  I  TOW  yon  are  the  wickedest  woman  In  th« 
World. 

JOANNA.  The  world !  What  can  a  low-born  foundling 
baggage  know  of  the  world  ?  Our  world  of  fashion  !  (yo« 
do-urn  R.) 

PEGGY.  Alas,  for  my  sins,  madam,  I  know  more  of  It 
to-night  than  I  had  ever  hoped  to  learn.  Still,  I  warrant 
there  are  punishments  even  for  you. 

JOANNA.  You  mean  that  you  will  inform  my  husband. 

PEGGY.  So  might  a  lady  of  fashion  do,  but  a  "foundling 

®  "  may  hftve  other  notions. 

OANNA.  I  warn  you,  the  brunt  would  not  fall  on  me,  but 
en  him.  For  George  Lovell  to  be  convicted  of  an  intrigue 
with  me  would  be  to  ruin  him  for  ever.  So,  since  you  love 
him,  ponder  well  ere  you  acquaint  anyone  with  your 
discovery. 

PEGGY.  I  thank  you  for  that  reminder.  I  shall  guard 
your  secret. 

JOANNA.  Is  that  all  you  have  to  say  ? 

PBGOY.  No.  I've  this.  Your — your — friendship  with 
Captain  Lovell  must  not  continue. 

J  OANNA.  (laughing)  Your  impudence  would  make  me  die 
of  laughing,  had  I  not  anticipated  you  by  casting  him  over. 
Faith,  I'm  wearied  of  the  young  man.  'Tis  an  infinite  pity 
he  can't  make  up  to  you — for  when  a  man  has  had  his 
romance,  a  commonplace  wife  is  no  drawback.  But,  of 
course,  that  is  out  of  the  question,  for  'tis  well-known  you 
are  destined  to  be  the  wife  of  the  worthy  Mr.  Embury. 

PBGOY.  (starting)  The  wife  of  Mr.  Embury  ! 

JOANNA.  For  what  else,  think  you,  he  has  trained  you  I 
(*he  sees  PEGGY'S  astonishment)  What  1  He  hasn't  declared 
himself  yet  ?  Then,  'tis  imprudent  to  play  pranks  like  these. 
You  risk  not  getting  him  at  all.  A  masquerade  at  the 
notorious  Belsize  -the  innocent  Peggy,  too!  (jeeringly)  Fear 
nothing — I  shan't  tell  him.  I  fancy  we  shall  both  gain  by 
keeping  our  own  counsel,  (goes  up  and  oft  back) 

PEGGY,  (sink*  into  chair  in  an  attitude  of  dejection)  A 
go  between  t  I  could  die  for  shame,  (pauses)  The  wife  of 
Mr.  Embury  !  Then  it  was  for  himself  he  spoke  !  And  I— 
1  let  him  know  that— Oh  1  Lord  help  me  1  (begin*  to  cry) 

Kvtitr  KIT  hurriedly  from  B. 

Krr.  Ah,  'tis  there  you  are.  I  missed  yoa  among  th« 
trowd,  BO  I  ran  away  to  see  if  you  were  having  a  merry  time. 

PEGGY,  (looking  up  through  her  tears)  Yos,  thank  you, 
Kit — I'm  uncommon  merry.  I  doubt  if  luaa^uura  Jen  are  a* 


VICE  AND  MMf.  4§ 

wildly  gay  M  they  are  presumed  to  be.  (rises  abruptly)  Tak« 
me  home,  please,  dear  Kit.  I've  had  enough  of  the  ball. 

K  IT.  (excitedly)  Oh,  dear,  I  pray  you  wait  till  this  danco  it 
ended. 

PEGOY.  Then  I'll  go  with  you,  and  sit  in  the  corner ;  'tin 
my  fitting  place,  Kit,  my  fitting  place,  (the  takes  his  arm  and 
they  go  off  H.) 

Two  men  enter  from  cardroom,  then  a  woman  looking 
about  her  ;  they  all  go  off  to  ballroom.  The  three  small 
girls  run  from  back  into  ballroom,  followed  by  two 
lads  ;  then  a  large  group  assemble  at  6acfc,  laughing  avid 
shouting  snatches  of  song ;  then  one  says  "  Here  comet 
Father  Christmas  again.  Let's  raffle  him — no — blind- 
fold Aim."  Old  man  appears,  they  blindfold  him  and 
repeat  refrain.  GOODLAKB  and  EMBUKY  push  through 
them,  and  they  disappear  at  back  into  the  garden; 
GOODLAKE  is  in  evening  dress  of  the  period,  EMBUKY  tf 
in  his  ordinary  attire. 

GOOD,  (coming  down  L.  and  looking  about  excitedly)  Curse 
•te  if  I  don't  think  she's  had  warning,  and  made  her  escape. 
(music  ceases) 

EMBURY.  (R.) 'Twould  prove  her  delicacy  to  escape  from 
this  n<'isy  den  on  any  pretext,  and  I'm  for  following  her 
example.  (GOODLAKB  protests)  Nay,  'twas  against  my  better 
judgment  that  I  came  with  you  on  this  errand.  In  truth, 
I  scarce  knew  where  you  were  bringing  me ;  my  brain  hai 
received  a  shock  to-day,  and  I'm  not  myself. 

GOOD.  You'll  not  leave  me  in  the  lurch  1 

EMBURY.  But  should  your  suspicions  be  proved,  what 
good  can  my  presence  do  ? 

GOOD.  Good  1  Dods,  man  !  you  can  help  me  to  secure  my 
rights,  by  being  witness  to  my  wrongs. 

EMBURY.  You  believe  your  wife  to  have  an  assignation 
here  to-night.  What  grounds  have  you  ? 

GOOD.  A  letter  in  her  hand.  I  found  it  in  an  emptied 
basket.  This  letter  may  concern  you  more  than  you  imagine, 
for,  mark  you,  the  basket  was  taken  from  your  house. 
Damn  it !  I'd  not  have  broken  it  to  you,  could  I  have 
broken  his  crown  without. 

EMBURY,  (quietly)  You  mean  that  the  letter  is  addressed 
to  my  nephew  ? 

GOOD.  You  said  he'd  been  called  to  town  f 

EMBURY.  My  wish  was  father  to  the  thought. 

GOOD.  I  remember— you  and  he  had  a  difference.  If  I 
him  here  to-night,  he  and  I  will  have  a  greater. 


60  MICE  AND  MEN. 

EMBURY.  Not  at  a  place  like  this— I  beg  of  you.    Fat 

irour  own  sake,  for  your  wife's  sake— you  cannot  afford  te> 
have  her  misconduct  noised  abroad,  (a  burst  of  laughter 
heard  from  the  garden,  and  these  loud  expression*  from  the 
cardroom  :  "  Who  has  the  Queen  ?  "  "  The  devil's  in  the  0am«.") 
Come,  Roger,  give  it  up.  We  are  out  of  our  element  here, 
man. 

GOOD,  (thaking  him  off)  Thunder  and  furies !  Do  yo« 
Ihink  I'm  a  craven  ? — that  you  can  turn  me  from  my  design  t 

EMBURY.  I  seek  only  to  save  you  from  further  degrada- 
tion. 

GOOD.  Degradation  be  damned  1  I  have  a  sword,  Mr. 
Embury — and  I've  not  forgotten  how  to  use  it. 

EMBURY  (emphatically)  You  shall  use  it  in  no  unequal 
contest — that  I  swear — and  you  are  no  match  for  LovelL 
(authoritatively)  Since  you  have  brought  me  into  this,  I'll  see 
you  through,  (a  bunt  of  laughter  comet  from  garden  and 
batlr oom) 

LOVELL.  (outside)  It's  getting  late.  I  beg  of  you  to  com* 
home 

GOOD,  (crowing  to  look  off  E.)  What's  that  ?  I'd  give  a 
thousand  pounds  to  catch  them  now  together,  (turning)  God  ! 
Embury,  if  there  isn't  some  mistake,  I  beg  you,  in  mercy, 
to  crack  me  on  the  skull,  for  I  could  not  live  without  her. 
(EMBURY  lays  a  7i<  I  on  his  shoulder)  Tis  hard  for  you  t* 
comprehend,  neighbour.  You  know  not  what  it  is  to  love 
a  woman  as  I  love  Joanna.  (EMBURY  tiyhs,  GOODLAKE  blow* 
hi*  -no tie)  Pshaw  I  I'm  a  weak -paled  fool  -like  all  blusterer*. 

EMBUKY.  (L.  quietly)  Aye,  you  are  a  weak-pated  fool— 
and  you  are  in  better  company  than  you  are  aware  of. 

Enter  two  women  from  R.,  they  go  off  c.  ;  then  LOVBLL 
and  PBGOY  enter  from  ballroom  ;  he  hat  her  cloak  on.  hit 
arm,  and  he  is  urging  her  to  put  it  or*  ;  she  it  masked^ 
the  takes  the  cloak  from  him  and  tosset  it  on  to  a  chair  | 
GOODLAKJB  turns  abruptly. 

GOOD,  (under  hit  breath)  By  God  !  Embury.  There  they 
are  '  (riidkes  a  rush  forward,  EMBURY  pulls  him  back) 

EMBUKY.  Wait.  You  must  be  sure.  The  woman  if 
masked.  (ste."t  in  front  of  him) 

>.».  Her  gown   isn't   masked.     I'd  know  it  among  a 
thousand. 

EMBURY.  Stand  aside,  (he  wings  GOODLAKE  round  to  L.» 
then  aili-ancet)  You  cover  your  face,  Captain  Lovell.  II 
would  hei-in  that  instinct  hnd  outlived  habit,  for  shame  \M 
•caret*  an  attribute  of  a  libertine. 


MICE  AND  HER  il 

P»OGY  mates  a  rush  forward ;  LOVELL  pulls  her  back, 
then  gets  in  front  of  her,  and  comes  down  in  her  place) 

JJOVELL.  (R.C.  removing  his  mask)  I  take  no  unfair  advan- 
tage, sir  ;  and  since  I  perceive  that  you  yourself  are  without 
*  mask,  my  features  are  at  your  service — but  I  beg  you'll 
state  your  wishes  briefly,  for  it  IB  my  present  duty  to  see  ft 
la/iy  home. 

EMBURY.  (L.O.)  Tis  neither  your  duty  nor  your  privilege, 
to  be  good  enough  to  leave  this  lady  to  her  lawful  protector. 
(points  to  GOODLAKB)  Or,  as  his  representative,  I  will  under- 
take to  settle  this  affair  myself.  (PEGGY  makes  another  forward 
movement) 

LOVELL.  (again  waves  her  back)  Threats  serve  an  ill  purpose 
with  me,  sir  ;  nor  am  I  wont  to  take  orders,  except  on 
parade.  But  grant  me  ten  minutes  in  which  to  carry  out 
my  purpose,  and  I  promise  you  to  return  and  bear  the  con- 
•equences  of  my  refusal. 

GOOD,  (furiously)  Let  me  to  the  coxcomb. 

EMBURY,  (o.  driving  him  back}   Not  here. 

LOVBLL.  (R.)  My  uncle  is  right.  Our  differences  will  not 
gpoil  for  keeping,  and  'tis  no  exhibition  for  a  lady,  (turns  in 
mud  ak-s  PEGGY'S  arm) 

EMBURY.  Look  you,  Captain  Lovell,  this  matter  cannot 
end  with  a  scratch  of  your  sword,  or  of  mine.  (LOVELL  hall* 
*nd  turns)  You  shall  be  exposed  to  your  mesa  room,  and  if 
there  be  any  gentlemen  among  your  intimates,  they  shall 
decline  your  further  acquaintance.  Now,  once  for  all,  will 
you  surrender  this  lady  ? 

LOVELL.  I  will  not.  Moreover,  I  challenge  Mr.  Goodlake's 
right  to  interfere. 

GOOD,  (dashing  towards  EMBURY)  I'll  take  *  hand  in  this 
—stand  back — I  say.  (swings  EMBURY  over  to  *.,  then  goes  up 
•nci  seizes  PEOGY  by  the  arm)  Gome  to  your  home,  madam. 

PEGGY  shakes  him  off  and  comes  boldly  forward;  GOODLAKB 
drops  down  L.  ;  LOVELL  goes  up. 

PBOGY.  (snatching  off  her  mask)  Not  so  rough,  Mr. 
Goodlake — by  your  leave.  (GOODLAKE  and  EMBURY  both  draw 
back  in  am«zement ;  she  comes  o.)  'Twould  seem  that  my 
presence  here  calls  for  explanation.  It  is  soon  given.  Being 
uncommon  curious  to  sea  a  masquerade,  I  entreated  Captain 
Lovell  to  be  my  escort.  I  know  full  well  my  conduct  calla 
for  reprimand,  but  the  right  to  administer  it,  I  concede  to 
only  one.  (she  cants  down  her  eyes  and  turnt  to  EMBURY)  ii« 
Will  punish  me  as  he  setts  life. 


52  MICE  AWD  MEN. 

GOOD.  (L.,  turning  to  EMBURY  whose  eyes  art  1>cnt  on 
PEGGY)  A  pretty  jade  you've  reared,  on  my  life  !  (EMBJRY 
raises  hit  hand  to  invoke  silence)  Bub  I'm  not  to  be  put  off  the 
Bcent.  It  is  a  trick — a  put-up  scheme.  I'll  swear  my  wife 
is  here  and  that  she  came  to  meet  this  scapegrace.  (Enter 
JOANNA  and  SIR  HARRY  from  back,  they  are  unmasked  ;  SIB 
H.  carries  JOANNA'S  domino,  they  are  talking  and  do  not 
perceive  the  others  ;  GOODLAKE  starts  and  points)  Ah  1  Whal 
did  I  say  ? 

SIR  H.  (aside  to  JOANNA)  Too  late— better  brazen  it  out. 

JOANNA,  (coming  down)  At  your  service,  Mr.  Goodlake. 
(glances  at  EMBURY)  But  I  fancy  we  interrupt  an  investiga- 
tion, (aside  to  PEGGY)  Remembar,  guard  your  tongue  unless 
you'd  ruin  him. 

PEGGY.  Knowing  my  intention  to  come  to  the  ball,  Mrs. 
Goodlake  gave  me  the  benefit  of  her  company,  but  she  is,  as 
you  see,  under  the  protection  of  her  cousin,  Sir  Harry 
Trimblestone.  (they  come  down) 

GOOD.  A  fig  for  Sir  Harry.  'Twas  not  to  him  she  wrote 
the  invitation. 

PEGGY.  Wrote  ?  Do  you  mean  you  have  found  my  letter  1 
And  took  the  liberty  to  read  it  ? 

GOOD.  'Tis  in  my  wife's  handwriting.  (JOANNA  and  SIB 
HARRY  drop  down) 

PBGOY.  Yes.  You  should  not  blame  her  if  she  employ  it  on 
behalf  of  one  who  is  less  accomplished,  (lightly)  "Safe  in 
the  privacy  of  a  crowd,  an  ardent  welcome  is  assured  you." 
(laughs)  That  is,  I  think,  the  way  it  runs,  Mr.  Goodlake.  I 
TOW  I  could  not  have  made  it  up  myself  in  a  year.  (EMBURI 
remotes  his  eyes  from  PEGGY  for  the  first  time) 

GOOD,  (humbly  crossing  to  JOANNA)  I  ask  your  forgiveness, 
Joanna.  (PEGGY  drops  down  to  R.  of  chair  L.  ) 

JOANNA,  (tossing  her  head)  Nay,  Mr.  Goodlake,  you'll  not 
wipe  out  your  insults  quite  so  readily,  (she  turns  to  EMBURY) 
I  crave  your  pardon,  sir,  that  I  so  weakly  yielded  to  thig 
girl's  entreaties,  but  that  which  masquerades  tor  simplicity  U 
often  a  tower  of  strength  against  those  who  lay  claim  to  more 
experience.  Indeed,  your  zeal  has  been  ill  rewarded.  But 
'tis  ever  thus  with  those  who  seek  to  do  an  act  of  charity, 
(turns)  And  now,  Mr.  Goodlake,  if  y«»u  have  made  sufficient 
fool  of  yourself  for  one  evening,  you  will  c.-nduct  me  home. 
(SiR  HARRY  bows  to  aU  and  goes  off  \.,  ;  JOANNA  curtsey*  U 
EMBCRY)  Good  night,  Mr.  Embury  (sh*  gLances  at  LOVELI 
And  PEGGY)  In  the  matter  of  your  ivmneotimis,  you  have  my 
heartfelt  sympathy,  (she  sweeps  off  at  th*  back  ;  (TOODLAKJI 
follow*  penitently) 

LovKLL.   (boioing  and  going  towards  cardroom,  then  tumuty) 


MICE  AND  MEW.  53 

I  beg  you'll  not  take  her  wholly  at,  her  word,  (exit  upper  L.  ; 
'here  is  a  long  pause  ;  PEGGY  stands  in  an  attitude  of  deep 
humiliation,  her  arms  hanging  limply  at  her  sides  ;  EMBURY 
»tands  with  his  back  half  turned  to  hert  his  hands  are  clenched 
and  he  breathes  deeply) 

EMBUKY.  Child,  child,  how  could  you  ?  How  could  you 
have  the  heart  to  rob  me  of  my  faith  in  you  ?  I  meant  so 
well  by  you.  What  have  you  done  for  yourself  ?  God  1 
What  have  you  done  for  us  both  ?  Where  is  your  dignity — 
that  priceless  jewel  of  womanhood  ?  Where  are  your 
honour  and  pride  that  you  can  screen  a  libertine,  and 
pursue  one  who  cares  naught  for  you  ?  Where  is  your  com- 
passion that  you  can  crush  out  an  honest  man's  life,  and 
without  a  thought  deride  a  faithful  soul  because  it  fell  to 
loving  you  ?  (he  turns  on  her  suddenly  with  passion  in  his 
voice)  I  could  almost  kill  you.  Never  in  my  life  have  I 
been  so  bitterly  angry — never  in  my  life  have  I  been  so 
infinitely  wretched.  (PEGGY'S  head  gradually  droops  ;  a  sudden 
revulsion  comes  over  EMBURY  ;  he  seizes  both,  her  hands)  Nay, 
pretty  one,  'tis  not  quite  so  bad  as  I  have  made  out.  I'm 
distraught  with  thinking.  I  beg  you  to  have  some  excuse 
for  me.  (he  sinks  into  chair,  still  holding  her  hands,  which  he 
presses  to  his  lips,  while  his  tears  run  down  ;  PEGGY  falls  on 
her  knees  in  front  of  him,  as  he  releases  her  hands) 

PEGGY,  (overcome  by  shame,  sorrow,  pity,  and  gratitude) 
And  do  you  not  hate  me  now  ?  (he  looks  at  her  tenderly,  and 
with  admiration  of  her  face  and  form)  Then  I'll  suffer  all 
the  rest,  (she  lowers  her  voice)  You  may  kill  me  if  you  want 
to.  'Twould  not  be  a  great  hurt.  One  must  die  some  time. 
(wearily)  And  I've  had  all  the  fun  I  want.  But  if  I've  to 
Uve  on,  I  beg  you  on  my  knees  to  shelter  me  from  wrong- 
doing— to  keep  me  by  your  side — to  let  me  be — (hesitates) 
be  more  to  you  than  I  have  ever  been  before,  (she  burie» 
her  face  in  her  hands.  EMBURY  rises  abruptly) 

EMBURY.  No,  no,  no  1  (he  turns  and  raises  her  to  her  feet) 
You  know  not  what  you  are  saying,  child,  (soothingly)  You 
are  wrought  up  by  excitement,  spurred  on  by  your  wounded 
vanity.  To-morrow  you'll  be  calmer. 

PEGGY,  (shaking  her  head)  I  shall  never  be  BO  calm  again. 
The  storm  is  all  over. 

EMBURY,  (gazing  at  her)  But  I  am  not — not  the  man  yon 
love.  Only  the  man  who  loves  you.  There  is  one  whom— 

PEGGY,  (shaking  her  head)  That  is  all  a  mistake.  If  on-  1 
It  out  to-night.  I  can  love  none  but  you,  and  if  you  will  l>  t 
trust  me — (pause)  Guardian,  I  know  now  that  it  was  for 
yourself  you  spoke  to  day.  I  bring  you  your  answer,  (sht 
tactends  her  hands)  Will  you  please — please  to  marry  we  ?  (0) 


64  MCI  AWD  MEN. 

stands  «  moment  at  i/  s£unn«d,  then  in  a  rapture  approach* 
her) 

EMBURY.  Sweetheart,  you  tempt  me  beyond  my  strength. 
(she  lays  her  head  on  his  shoulder)  Do  not  cry,  pretty  one. 
Tis  I — I — who  have  been  wrong,  wrong,  wrong,  all  wrong. 
In  my  arrogance  I  thought  to  fashion  you  after  my  own 
pattern,  and  nature  has  outwitted  me.  In  place  of  being 
my  servant,  she  has  made  me  hers,  (he  holds  her  at  arm't 
length  and  surveys  her)  You  are  her  product,  not  mine,  and 
right  well  has  she  acquitted  herself  !  (admiringly)  Till  now 
I've  never  seen  you  in  a  silken  gown.  How  came  you  by  it  I 

PEGGY.  Mrs.  Goodlake  lent  it  me. 

EMBURY,  (suddenly)  Mrs.  Goodlake  1  Then  it  is  possible 
I — tell  me,  have  you  ever  had  it  on  before  1 

PEGGY.  I  wore  it  this  morning  to  try  the  fit. 

EMBURY.  Ah  1  And  my  nephew  saw  you  in  it  ?  (she  nods) 
You  left  the  room  abruptly,  I  think  1  (she  nods)  The  rascal  is 
not  so  bad  then  as  I  have  made  him  out.  I  accused  him  of 
holding  a  tryst.  I  mistook  you  for  another. 

PEGGY,  (wonderingly)  I  then  was  the  cause  of  your  quarrel  I 
But  he  said — I  thought — I  understood — the  dispute  had 

been    concerning    the    woman   whom  he (she  suddenly 

pauses) 

EMBURY.  The  woman  whom  he  I 

PEGGY,  (after  a  quiet  little  hysterical  laugh)  I  know  no* 
what  I  meant  to  say.  My  brain  seems  all  a  muddle.  'Tii 
the  unaccustomed  noise,  and  the  company,  (pleadingly) 
Won't  you  take  me — take  me  home  ?  I  am  weary  of  this 
place,  (gives  another  little  laugh)  I  promise  you,  dear  guardian, 
I'll  betake  myself  to  no  more  balls.  My  mischievous  dayi 
are  passed.  'Tis  all  gone  and  finished,  (she  shivers) 

EMBURY.  You  are  cold,  and,  like  the  sorry  cavalier  I  am, 
you  must  shiver  before  I  notice  it.  (fetches  cloak  from  chair9 
wraps  it  round  her) 

PEGGY.  What  have  I  done  t 

EMBURY.  There  —there — and — (kisses  her  on  forehead)  To- 
tight  you  are  beautiful— beautiful— my  darling.  Do  yon 
anderstand  that  I  am  going  to  take  you  at  your  word — that 
we  are  to  be  married — to  be  married,  (she  nods ;  he  fyhtem 
his  grasp  <m  her  hands)  You'll  not  change  your  mind 't  (sh§ 
shakes  her  head)  You  dare  not  now.  Now  that  you  hav« 
begun  to  teach  me  how  to  live.  One  may  give  life,  but  one 
ton  y  not  take  it  away.  My  darling 

J'ISGGT.  My  hands  1    You  hurt  my  hands  1 
I, M BURY,  (kixsing  them)  Poor  little  hands.     Forgive  met 
T  ksiew  not  what  I  was  doing.     Faith  1  I'm  scarce  conscious* 
HAL..  1  a-iQ.     What  d&y  is  this,  Peggy  t 


MTCI  am  mnr.  IS 

PBOOT.  The  day  on  which  you  first  proposed  to  marry  m«, 

EMBURY.  Was  that  to-day  ?    It  seems  like  months  ago. 

PEGGY,  (turning  away)  Indeed  it  does. 

EMBURY.  Look  at  me — look  at  me,  sweetheart.     What ) 
erying  I    You  are  not  unhappy  1 

PEGGY,  (smiling  and  shaking  her  head)  No,  not  unhappy  j 
only  tired.     So  very,  very  tired. 

EMBURY.  Come,  come,  (she  takes  his  arm  and  they  go  up 
together,  she  leaning  her  head  upon  his  shoulder.  The  musit 
of  a  country  dance  now  starts,  followed  by  loud  laughter 
•*  ballroom^  also  laughter  and  noise  in 


HICK  AND  MOT. 


ACT  nr. 

.  -fffc  weeks  later.  The  Garden  of  the  South  Cottag* 
at  Hampttead  ;  the  house,  of  dull  red  brick,  is  at  upper  L.  ; 
the  porch,  which  stands  out  in  distinct  view  of  the  audience* 
is  covered  with  vines  and  creepers  ;  there  are  two  steps  to 
porch  ;  at  back  of  house  are  chestnut  and  other  trees  in 
oloom  ;  facing  the  audience  near  c.  at  back  is  narrow  path- 
way  or  avenue,  which  is  arched  by  a  tretlis  work  ;  this  it 
covered  with  golden  laburnum,  the  long  blossoms  hanging 
fringe-like  thrmtgh  the  spaces ;  the  pathway  extends  as  faf 
back  as  the  stage  uill  permit  ;  it  then  turns  to  the  right,  and 
out  of  sight.  Just  before  the  bend  it  reached,  there  is  a 
tmall  wicket  gate,  which  is  open  ;  at  R.  there  are  lilac  bushes 
in  bloom,  and  standing  slightly  out  is  a  wide  rustic  summer 
house,  or  arbour ;  this  is  covered  with  purple  wisteria  ;  tn 
front  of  arbour,  standing  out,  is  a  rustic  bench  ;  there  ti 
a  flower  bed  down  L.  attached  to  wall  of  house  ;  there  is  an 
exit  upper  L.  above  house,  and  another  between  the  bushes  at 
upper  R.,  also  an  exit  at  Lower  L. 

MRS.  DEBORAH  is  discovered  standing  near  the  house  ;  she 
is  dressed  much  as  in  Act  II.  ;  she  is  shading  her  eyet 
with  her  hand,  and  looking  off  upper  R. 

MRS.  D.  (impatiently)  Will  the  good-for-nothing  never 
come  with  that  last  load  ?  Ah,  there  he  is.  (loudly)  Fetor, 
Peter,  what's  to  do  1 

PETBR.  (off)  I  be  coming,  Mrs.  Deborah. 

MRS.  D.  And  so  be  Christmas.  Be  careful  of  that  hedge, 
you  clumsy  put  I  (PBTEB.  appears,  a  wooden  box  on  htt 
ihoulders)  And  now  think  you  I've  nothing  better  to  do 
than  wait  about  on  your  pleasure  ?  I'd  'a'gorie  to  our  house 
and  back  a  dozen  times. 

PETBR.  (comes  down  R.O.)  Like  as  not,  Mrs.  Deborah,  but 
then  you  are  a  vastly  ingenious  woman.  So  ingenious  thnt 
Mr.  Embury  wouldn't  think  of  stopping  you  on  the  way 
and  sending  yon  off  to  the  barracks  with  a  message. 

Mas.  D.  A  message  1     Would  it  be  to  Captain  Lovell  ? 

PETKR.  (doggedly)  Maybe  it  would,  (she  turns  to  him} 
Maybe  it  wouldn't. 

MRS.  D.  It  seems  a  monstrous  pity  he  should  be  wanting 
to  hurry  off  to  foreign  parts  now  that  I  e  and  Mr.  Embury 
Lave  made  up  their  differences.  It  is  likely  that  th«  message 
had  tome  bearing  on  this  caprice  of  hi*. 


MICE  AND  MEX.  67 

PETER  (obstinately)  Aye,  'tis  likely,  but  then  again,  who 
knows  ?  It  might  have  been  about  the  weather — or  the 
crops. 

MBS.  D.  (irritably)  Mercy  I     I  can't  think  what  possesses 

me  to  stand  here  wasting  my  time  with  a  lazy,  idle (yoe» 

towards  house) 

PETER.  Mrs.  Deborah,  I've  got  something  for  your  private 
ear. 

MRS.  D.  (turning  with  marked  curiosity)  Yea  I  (he  beckon* 
mnnd  she  goes  to  him) 

PETER,  (lowering  his  voice)  This  box  is  uncommon  heavy. 
(puts  it  down  and  sits  on  it) 

MRS.  D.  Drat  your  impudence  !  Take  it  inside,  so  I  can 
Jay  the  linen  it  contains  beside  the  rest.  I  warrant  Miss 
Peggy  will  open  her  eyes  when  she  finds  each  piece  placed 
ready  for  use,  and  everything  new  from  garret  to  cellar. 
Which  makes  one  marvel  what  Mr.  Embury  can  be  intending 
to  do  with  the  old  place,  for  not  an  article  has  been  moved 
or  disturbed.  Think  you  he  means  to  sell  it  ? 

PETER,    (imperturbably)    Well,    he's  said   nothing   about 
it. 

MRS.  D.  And  mark  you,  while  I'm  to  be  shifted  here, 
you're  to  remain  there. 

PETER.  He  don't  want  me  to  get  corrupted  by  evil  com- 
panions. 

MRS.  D.  (impatiently)  I  warrant  you  know  considerably 
more  than  you  let  out. 

PKTER.  Which  makes  us  uncommon  even  ;  for  you,  Mrs. 
Deborah,  are  wont  to  let  out  considerably  more  than  you 
know. 

MRS.  D.  (emphatically)  I  know  this  much.  No  man  in 
his  senses  wants  to  keep  two  houses  going  at  one  time. 

PETER.  No  single  man,  perhaps,  but  two  houses  are  none 
too  many  for  a  married  man  ;  it  allows  of  one  for  himself 
and  one  for  his  wife.     And  'tis  by  such  methods  that  con 
nubial  happiness  is  guaranteed. 

MRS.  D.  And  pray  what  can  you  know  of  the  married  state  1 

PETER.  I  know  enough  to  have  escaped  it,  Mrs.  D.,  and 
that's  all  the  knowledge  a  man  requires  (Lifts  box) 

GOOD,  (loudly  outside)  Hillo  !  Somebody  1  How  the 
devil  does  one  come  at  the  house  ? 

MRS.  D.  It  is  Mr.  Goodlake.  Hurry  in  with  that  box, 
Peter.  (PETER  goes  off  round  by  the  upper  side  of  the  house) 

Enter  GOODLAKE  at  upper  R. 

GOOD.  Gad  1  I've  heard  that  Paradise  was  a  ticklish  hard 
place  for  a  man  who  sought  a  short  cut,  but  this  beats  ail 


58  MICE  AVD 

warning.  I  was  bold  I  should  find  our  4»ptire  swain  on  tK.i 
enchanted  ground.  Where  is  he  T 

MRS.  D.  Mr.  Embury  \wa  just  stepped  into  yondet 
meadow  path — (points  off  o.)  *o  have  a  word  with  the 
Parson. 

GOOD,  (laughing)  Egad  !  I've  misgivings  he's  taken  frighl 
at  the  last  minute,  and  is  bribing  the  Parson  to  cancel  to- 
morrow's job.  (comes  down  to  bench,  K.C.) 

MRS.  D.  Nay,  the  wedding  will  come  off  safe  enough. 
Young  Mistress  Embury  that  is  to  be  comes  to-day  to 
inspect  her  new  home  for  the  first  time.  I  take  it  you  and 
your  lady  will  be  at  the  church,  Mr.  Goodlake. 

GOOD,  (shaking  his  head)  There  is  something  happened  to 
prevent  it.  Tis  on  this  account  I'd  see  Mark  Embury. 
(Enter  EMBURY  down  path  o.)  And  here  he  comes  as  solemn 
as  two  funerals,  I'll  be  sworn.  (EMBURY  carries  a  large  bunch 
of  wild  flowers  ;  he  comes  o.) 

EMBUEY.  (giving  flowers  to  MRS.  DEBORAH)  Be  good 
•nough  to  place  these  in  the  white  bed-chamber,  Mrs. 
Deborah,  (the  takes  the  flowers  and  exits  into  the  house  ;  turnt 
to  GOODLAKE)  And  how  does  friend  Roger  ? 

GOOD.  Lord,  I  hope  better  than  you,  if  your  countenance 
tells  any  tale.  Is  it  the  natural  fear  of  the  leap,  man,  or 
what  plagues  you  ?  (sits  on  bench) 

EMBURY,  (smiling)  Nothing,  Roger — nothing,  as  I  live.  I 
e wear  I'm  at  peace  with  all  mankind,  which  means  I'm 
uncommonly  satisfied  with  myself.  And  now,  I  take  it, 
you've  oome  for  a  peep  at  the  place  ? 

GOOD.  No.  My  time  is  all  too  short.  I've  told  you  of 
the  trip  to  France,  which  for  the  sake  of  Joanna's  health 
I've  long  been  contemplating.  Well,  it  seems  there's  been 
Bome  mistake  in  the  date  set  to  meet  our  friends  at  Dover, 
and  instead  of  leaving  two  days  hence  we  have  to  start 
to-day. 

EMBURY.  My  best  wishes  go  with  you. 

GOOD.  But  Damme  !  I  shan't  be  here  to  see  you  take 
the  plunge. 

EMBURY,  (smiling)  Then  you're  spared  the  chance  of  seeing 
me  stick  in  the  mud. 

GOOD.  I'll  admit  that  in  one  particular  it  is  a  relief,  for 
when  a  man  has  made  a  confounded  fool  of  himself,  he 
doesn't  relish  meeting  the  witness  of  his  folly. 

EMBURY.  You  allude  to  Captain  Lovell  Your  mind  could 
have  rested  easy.  You  would  not  have  met  Captain  Lovell 
at  my  wedding. 

GOOD.  But   I    thought    the    family    rapture    had    been 


MICE  AND  MEW.  59 

EMBURY.  Just  so.  But  that  does  not  lessen  his  anxiety 
to  be  away  from  here.  He's  for  making  his  fortune  in  the 
Oolonies,  and  this  morning  I  had  word  of  his  intention  to 
•tart  at  once. 

GOOD,  (rising)  A  rolling  stone  gathers  scant  moss,  and 
he's  better  off  at  home. 

EMBURY.  I  have  hopes  to  persuade  him  to  that  effect,  and 
kave  sent  for  him,  so  that  I  may  administer  a  final  argument. 

GOOD.  Then  I'll  be  going,  (goes  up)  Embury— (offers  his 
kand)  this  saying  good-bye  is  a  most  damnable  thing.  Six 
months  is  a  long  time  when  you're  looking  forward,  and 
Lord  knows  what  marriage  will  hare  twisted  you  into  by 
the  time  I  return. 

EMBURY,  (taking  his  hand)  I  promise  you  to  remain  un- 
changed, old  friend,  unchanged  in  every  particular.  Good- 
bye, and  God  speed  1  Stay,  I'll  see  you  to  the  lane,  (they 
Kxunt  together  upper  R.) 

After  slight  pause  enter  Pio«Y  down  centre  path  ;  she  it 
dressed  is  a  lilac  gown,  simply  made,  but  not  so  severely 
plain  as  her  former  gowns  ;  she  has  a  little  black  silk 
tearf  cape  on  ;  her  hair  is  titd  at  the  nape  of  her  neck 
mnd  she  wears  an  old-fashioned  bonnet.  Her  appearance 
is  altogether  quaint  and  odd,  and  suggests  the  idea 
that  she  has  been  trying  to  make  herself  look  older  than 
the  is.  She  carries  the  large  green  book  under  her  arm ; 
the  looks  about  the  garden,  approaches  the  house,  than 
halts  and  listens.  Next  she  goes  to  the  rustic  bench  and 
tits,  takes  off  the  black  scarf  and  places  it  on  back  of 
bench,  opens  the  book  and  slowly  takes  out  the  pressed 
thamrocks  ;  she  gathers  them  all  in  one  hand,  rises  and 
goes  to  the  flower  bed,  where  she  takes  a  stick  and  digs  a 
small  hole. 

PIGGY.  Yes,  I'll  dig  a  hole  and  bury  them. 
MBS.  D.  (heard  off)  Make  haste,  make  haste  I 

PEGGY  jumps  up  and  returns  with  her  book  to  the  bench. 
After  replacing  the  shamrocks  tn  book,  she  hides  it 
behind  her  on  the  bench.  Enter  MRS.  DEBORAH  from 
house.  She  has  her  bonnet  on  and  carries  a  small  hand- 
basket. 

MRS.  D.  So  you've  got  here,  and  all  by  yourself.  Oh, 
dearie  1  It  is  a  sweet  place,  and  I  pray  you'll  be  thrice 
happy  in  it.  (embraces  her  affectionately)  I  vow  I  have  to  make 
the  most  of  you  to-day,  for  it  is  not  with  Mistress  Embury 
that  I  ahall  dare  to  take  such  liberties,  (begint  to  cry)  It  fe 


60  MICE   AND  MEN. 

like  losing  you  altogether,  (embraces  her  again  impulsively  \ 
PEGGY  bursts  into  tears  and  they  weep  together)  There,  there, 
my  pretty.  Think  of  your  sweet  white  gown.  It  will  be  a 
proud  and  happy  day  for  you.  (they  both  sit  down) 

PKGGY.  (half  sobbing)  It  will  be  a  de-delightfui  oc-occasion. 

MRS.  D.  (sobbing)  In  truth  it  will. 

PEGGY,  (sobbing)  And  I  ought  to  be  the  happiest  girl  in 
the  world,  (suddenly  checking  her  tears)  Moreover,  I  am  the 
happiest  girl  in  the  world.  And  you  mustn't  presume  to 
think  otherwise. 

MRS.  D.  No,  dearie,  no. 

PEGGY,  (stamping  her  foot)  Then  stop  crying.  You  ought 
to  be  ashamed  to  behave  like  this,  the  day  before  my 
wedding.  I  don't  see  what  anyone  has  to  cry  about,  unless 
it  is  that  they  are  jealous  of  my  good  fortune,  (suddenly) 
That  is  it,  you  bad  old  woman.  You  are  jealous,  and  when 
I  am  married  I  shall  treat  you  with — with—  (tosses  her  head) 
great  dignity,  great  dignity,  (crosses  down  R.c.) 

MRS.  D.  (drying  her  eyes)  It  bids  fair  to  be  an  uncommon 
quiet  wedding. 

PEGGY.  And  who, 'pray,  wants  to  have  a  lot  of  silly  gaping 
guests  ? 

MRS.  D.  Still,  when  one  has  such  a  fine  house,  with  chairs 
and  tables  of  real  mahogany,  and  look  you,  there  are  six 
dozen  of  everything,  (goes  close  to  her) 

I'EGGY.  (startled)  Not  six  dozen  tobies? 

MRS.  D.  (shaking  her  head)  I  was  thinking  of  the  linen. 
What  is  more,  there  is — you'd  never  divine  what.  And  you 
mustn't  know,  because  I'm  pledged  not  to  tell  you,  but — 
there's  a  harpsichord. 

PEGGY,  (with  pleased  surprise)  A  harpsichord  !  I  had 
thought  Mr.  Embury  disliked  the  sound  of  music.  'Tis  a 
strange  purchase  for  an  old-fashioned  elderly  couple,  (suddenly 
farning)  Think  you  I  begin  to  look  elderly,  Mrs.  Deborah  1 
(proudly)  I  had  this  bonnet  designed  to  please  my  guardian, 
and  to  lend  me  age  and  stateliness.  'Tis  said  that  women 
grow  old  sooner  than  men,  so  I  may  soon  catch  up  to  him. 

MRS.  D  Nay,  I  wouldn't  be  impatient  on  the  age  question. 
Twill  come  soon  enough. 

PEGGY,  (pettishly)  But  it  won't  come  soon  enough.  I 
want  it  to  come  to-morrow,  for  to-morrow  I  shall  be — be — 
somebody's  aunt.  ( pauses,  then  turns  suddenly)  Do  you  know 
— have  you  heard  he  goes  away  to-day  ?  (leans  her  head  on 
MRS.  D.'s  sho'ulder) 

MRS.  D.  Poor  Captain  Lovell  1  (shakes  her  head  and  putt 
kei  handkerchief  to  her  eyes) 

Pttoor.  (hiding  her  vu>n   tear*)  I  declare  you  are  crying 


MICE  AND   MEN.  61 

ftgate.  How  dare  yon  be  so  weak  and  silly  ?  As  if  he  could 
•tay  idling  here  and  spoil  all  his  future  chances,  (sobs)  In  my 
regret  there  is  some  excuse,  for  to  me  he  is  a  relative,  or 
he  will  be  to-morrow,  and  it  is  quite  proper  to  grieve  about 
a  relative. 

EMBURY,  (heard  outside)  Yes,  yes,  trim  the  hedge  down. 

MBS.  D.  (listening)  'Sh  1 

Enter  EMBURY  from  E. 

EMBUT&Y.  (coming  doion)  And  I  was  not  here  to  greet  you 
after  alL  Let  me  make  amends,  (extends  his  hands)  Welcoma, 
child,  welcome  to  your  new  home,  (she  timidly  places  her 
bands  in  his) 

MBS.  D.  Everything  is  in  readiness,  sir  Would  you  like 
that  I  should  show  Mias  Peggy  through  the  house  befora 
I  go? 

EMBURY.  No,  I  thank  you. 

MRS.  D.  Then  I'd  best  deliver  up  the  keys,  (produces  from 
her  basket  a  bunch  of  keys  hung  on  a  white  ribbon)  I've  taken 
the  liberty  to  string  them  on  a  white  ribbon,  and  now  I'll  ba 
getting  back.  There's  much  to  do.  (curtseys  and  goes  off  R.) 

PEGGY.  Am  1  not  then  to  go  through  the  —through  our 
house  to-day  ? 

EMBURY,  (nervously)  Yes,  yes,  child.  But  I  have  a  fancy 
for  you  to  see  it  first,  accompanied  by  no  one  but — but  your 
future  husband. 

PEGGY.  Then  shall  we  go  now  t 

EMBURY,  (absent-mindedly)  Nay,  not  now.  (looks  up)  There 
is  plenty  of  time,  dear  one.  (cheerily)  And  you  haven't  seen 
half  the  garden  yet.  I  hope  you  like  it  Peggy. 

PEGGY.  Indeed,  I  like  it  very  much,  guardian,  (he  looks  at 
her  with  a  quiet  sadness)  I  ask  your  pardon  I  remembered 
you  desired  me  to  call  you  by  your  first  name,  and  try  as  I 
may,  I  have  not  yet  been  able  to  accomplish  it.  But  I  will 
try  again  ;  believe  me,  I  will. 

EMBURY.  Nay,  child,  I  do  not  wish  you  to  do  anything 
that  costs  an  effort.  And  I  am  not  sure  but  the  word 
44  guardian  "  has  a  gentle  and  more  appropriate  sound. 

PEGGY,  (at  extreme  R.  of  bench)  Tis  difficult  to  break 
one's  habit,  is  it  not  1 

EMBURY.  Moat  difficult,  and  many  things  that  seem  easy 
at  the  start  grow  perplexing  as  one  advances.  Do  you 
remember  last  night  I  spoke  of  a  little  talk  we  were  to  have  1 
(she  nods  ;  he  sits  beside  her  on  bench)  By  sleeping  on  the 
•ubject,  I  thought  to  tackle  it  more  readily,  but  I  could  not 
•leep.  And  at  sunrise  I  arose  and  went  out  in  the  meadows, 
•nd  what,  think  you,  waa  the  subject  of  my  meditation  I 


62  MICE  AND  MEN. 

Come  here,  child,  (she  »it*  nearer  to  him)  Peggy,  I 
been  wondering  if,  in  planning  out  your  future,  I  have  done 
always  what  waa  right.  I  mean  for  you.  Right  for  your 
happiness. 

PEGGY.  You  have  always  acted  for  my  happiness,  dear 
guardian. 

EMBURY,  (shaking  his  head)  That  is  what  I  have  told  rny- 
telf .  (smile*  sadly)  But  I've  lately  been  troubled  with  doubts 
as  to  my  own  veracity. 

PBUGT.  But  all  that  has  been  pleasant  in  my  life  I  owe  to 
you. 

EMBURY,  (taking  her  hand)  Nay,  dear  heart,  you  owe  me 
nothing.  The  happiness  you  have  already  bestowed  on  me 
is  a  dower  that  will  last  me  all  my  life.  (PEGGY  cries  a  little) 
And  remember  this — always  remember  this.  No  relation 
that  you  might  bear  to  me  could  enhance  the  tenderness  in 
which  I  already  hold  you.  (rises)  And  now  we'll  say  no  more 
about  these  things,  except  that  what  must,  will  be,  and 
what  is,  is  right. 

PEGGY.  Then  what  you  have  planned  for  me,  that  must 
be  right  also.  Do  you  fear  that  as  a  wife  I  shall  disappoint 
you  1  (rises) 

EMBURY.  No.  As  a  wife  you  will  not  disappoint  me. 
And  what  I  have  planned  is  right,  quite  right  (changes  hit 
tone)  But  tell  me  of  your  new  gown  and  bonnets— and  fur- 
belows. Have  they  all  been  fashioned  to  your  liking  1  (sits 
again) 

PEGGY.  Yes,  and  to  yours,  I  hope. 

EMBURY.  I  warrant  Mrs.  Deborah  has  not  forgot  the  rice 
and  the  old  shoes.  Such  sacred  functions  will  scarce  brook 
neglect. 

PEGGY.  She  fears  only  an  insufficient  audience. 

EMBURY.  'Tis  true  our  supply  of  guests  is  dwindling 
iown.  (pauses)  Do  you  know  that  George  Lorell  proposes 
to  leave  as  f 

PKGOY.  (quietly)  Yes. 

EMBURY.  And  that  he  proposes  to  go  at  once— to  day  I 

PIGGY.  Yes. 

EMBURY.  It  is  my  wish  that  he  should  stay. 

PEGGY.  Stay  for— for  our  wedding. 

EMBURY.  Yes.     For  our— stay  for  the  wedding. 

PEGGY.  Have  you  asked  him  to  remain  ? 

EMBURY.  No — I  want  you  to  ask  him. 

PEGGY.  I  ?  (she  is  much  confused). 

EMBURY.  Have  you  the  courage  to  persuade  him  for  hifl 
good,  when  the  advice  may  cause  you  a  little  temporary 
paint 


MICE  AND  MEN.  88 

PIGQY.  (quietly)  Yes. 

EMBURY.  Then  you  shall  ask  him  to  give  tip  his  roving 
design.  I  would  have  him  settle  down  at  home,  (pauses)  I 
would  have  him — marry. 

PEGGY,  (quickly,  off  her  guard)  Marry  1  (half  rises) 

EMBURY,  (gently  preventing  her)  I  have  told  you  it  is  for  hia 
•wn  good.  Will  you  do  it  1 

PEGGY.  Think  you  my  wordh  <rill  carry  so  much 
weight  ? 

EMBJRY.  If  you  speak  them  with  conviction,  (takes  <s 
Utter  from  his  pocket.  You  may  give  him  this.  It  will  con- 
firm what  you  may  say.  (rises)  He'll  likely  be  here  anon. 
In  the  meantime  we'll  explore  the  garden.  'Tis  a  rare  old 
garden,  (leads  her  to  R.)  But  I  am  forgetting  your  keys,  (/w 
hanga  ribbon  on  her  arm)  You'll  need  them  by-and-bye. 
They  will  open  all  the  doors,  and  I  promise  you  there  is  not 
»  blue  chamber  in  all  the  castle.  Come,  pretty  one,  let  us 
to  the  garden,  (he  takes  her  hand  and  they  go  off  R.  ;  presently 
LOVELL  enters  down  the  centre  path, ;  he  looks  about  the 
garden  ;  PETER  enters  from  the  upper  side  of  the  house) 

LOVELL.  So  that  is  the  new  house,  eh?  Is  my  imcl« 
within  ? 

PETER,  (coming  down  a  little)  No,  Captain,  he'll  be  some- 
where about  the  grounds,  though. 

LOVELL.  I  think  his  message  bade  me  wait  in  the 
garden. 

PKTEK.  Yes,  Captain.  In  the  garden,  near  the  arbour. 
This  is  the  garden,  (points)  that  be  the  arbour,  and  there  b* 
jou. 

LOVELL.  If  you  see  my  uncle,  say  that  I  am  com*. 

PETER.  Yes,  Captain,  (goes  off  upper  B.) 

LOVELL  walks  impatiently  to  and  fro ;  presently  he  espies  the 
black  wrap,  he  looks  at  it,  then  about  the  garden  eagerly  ; 
then  he  tees  the  green  book  on  bench,  he  takes  it  up,  turns 
the  leaves  and  finds  the  withered  shamrocks,  he  gives  a 
look  of  pleased  surprise,  he  half  turns  so  that  his  back  i» 
towards  R.  Enter  PEGGY  ;  she  still  has  the  keys  on  her 
arm,  she  gets  nearly  to  the  middle  of  the  stage  before  she 
tees  LOVELL,  then  she  stops  timidly,  and  turns  as  if  to  go 
back  ;  he  turns  and  closes  the  book. 

LOVELL.  I  did  not  know  that  you— that  I  should  meet  yon 
kere. 

PEGGY,  (with  embarrassment)  No,  I— I  went  to  see  th« 
parden,  but  I  remembered  that  I  had  left  my  book,  and 
harried  back,  (holds  out  her  hand)  I  want  my  book. 


64  MICE  AND  MEN. 

LOVFLL.  (indicating  the  book  he  holds)  This  f 

PEGGY.  Yes. 

LOVELL.  (with  a  slight  frown  and  a  constraint  m  Via  voiri] 
You  did  keep  the  shamrocks. 

PEGGY.  Yes,  but  I  am  not  going  to  keep  them  afoer  to-day. 

LOVIBLL.  Then  I  may  have  them  back  ? 

PBOGY.  No.  It  was  my  intention  to  bury  them,  but  in  all 
the  way  along  I  found  no  likely  spot,  (extends  her  hand  again 
for  the  book) 

LOVELL.  (giving  it,  bitterly)  Such  weeds  sometimes  have  a 
knack  of  taking  root,  and  springing  up  afresh. 

PEGGY.  Not  when  they  are  quite  dead,  (opens  book)  See, 
there's  severed  leaves  and  broken  stems. 

LOVELL.  (moving  slightly  away)  I've  a  notion  my  uncle 
must  have  sent  for  me  to  admire  the  outside  of  his  dwelling, 
since  he  did  not  ask  me  in.  Perhaps  you  will  repair  hi* 
omission. 

PEGGY,  (shaking  her  head)  1  mustn't.  I  do  not  hke  to. 
I've  not  been  in  myself  as  yet.  Mr.  Embury  has  a  fancy 
regarding  my  first  inspection,  (looks  back)  And  he's  not  here. 
But  I  know  why  he  sent  for  you.  (timidly)  He  wishes  you  to 
change  your  mind  about  leaving  England. 

LevELL.  He's  intimated  as  much  already,  and  alreadj 
IV  e  declined. 

PEGGY.  But  he  thought  were  I  to  ask  you 

LOVELL.  Ask  me  what  ? 

PEGGY,  (nervously)  To  stay  at  home — to  settle  down  some- 
where near — near — here. 

LOVELL.  (frowning)  And  you — you  would  propose  that  1 
(advances  to  her) 

PEGGY.  He  assured  me  'twould  be  for  your  good,  and  ha 
always  speaks  the  truth. 

LOVELL.  My  good,  forsooth,  (goes  up  o.  and  laughs  harshly) 
It  seems  Mr.  Embury  has  a  pa&sion  for  shaping  other 
people's  destinies.  Is  there  any  more  to  his  message  V  (turns) 

PEGGY.  Yes  (tremulmisly  and  lowering  her  eyes)  He  would 
have  you — have  you  marry,  (sits  on  bench) 

LOVELL.  (startled)  Upon  my  life  !  (stands  off  and  looks  ol 
fcer  •  And  I  once  thought  you  had  a  heart. 

PEGGY,  (half  crying)  Ct^' t  you  see  it  is  my  task  —  doing 
what  I've  promised  ? 

LOVELL.  And  so  you  would  have  me  marry  1  (she  nodt 
tlo''  ly)  You  urge  me  to  it  from  a  sense  of  duty.  Ha — ha — ha  I 
Ti<*  a  droll  spectacle.  You,  my  mentor  and  adviser. 

PKGGY.  (spiritedly)  Indeed,  I  see  nothing  odd  in  thai. 
You  forget  I  am  /our  aunt— or  I  shall  be  by  to-morrow. 
(rim) 


MI01  AND   MEN  65 

LOTKLL.  (back*  to  L.C.,  sarcastically)  Ten  thousand  par- 
ions.  I  had  forgotten  the  respect  due  to  your  venerablt 
position. 

PEGGY.  Tis  not  kind  in  you  to  ridicule  me. 

LOVELL.  (angrily)  And  pray,  have  you  shown  any  regard 
for  my  sensibilities  ?  But  continue,  I  beg.  Tour  errand 
isn't  finished. 

PEGGY.  I've  nothing  more  to  say. 

LOVELL.  And  am  I  not  to  lenrn  the  description  off 
name  of  the  lady  my  uncle  has  so  generously  provided 
for  me. 

PEGGY.  He  did  not  tell  me.  But  he  gave  me  a  letter. 
You  may  learn  in  that,  (produces  EMBURY'S  letter  from  her 
pocket) 

LOVELL.  (waving  it  aside)  Read  it,  I  pray  you.  (she  shake! 
her  head  ;  he  takes  it,  breaks  the  seal,  spreads  it  open,  then 
hands  it  back)  As  my  aunt  it  is  one  of  your  duties,  (she  take$ 
it,  ylancet  timidly  at  the  page,  reads  the  first  few  lines,  then 
tuddenly  gives  a  little  hysterical  scream,  drops  the  letter,  lookt 
round  wildly,  then  runs  off  upper  R  ;  LOVELL  turns  in  aston- 
ishment, then  picks  up  letter  ;  reading)  "  The  affection  thai 
my  dear  girl  entertains  for  you  has  long  been  known  to  me, 
but  it  is  only  of  late  since  1  have  watched  you  in  her  com- 
pany, that  I  have  known  this  attachment  was  mutual.  In 
the  endeavour  to  secure  my  own  happiness,  I  have  tried  to 
put  my  discovery  behind  me,  but  I  can  no  longer  cheat  my- 
self— nor  you.  Take  with  my  dear  one  the  little  home  she 
brings  you,  and  if  you  are  half  as  happy  dwelling  in  it  as  I 
have  been  in  planning  it,  then  my  life's  experiment  can  not 
be  counted  a  failure.  Let  no  thought  of  me  cloud  your 
happiness.  I  am  neither  a  martyr  nor  a  hero.  Bachelor- 
hood  has  many  charms  to  one  of  my  temperament,  and  old 
habits  are  hard  to  break."  (LOVELL  looks  dazed,  then  tum§ 
excitedly)  Where  is  she  ?  (he  goes  up  to  R.,  hurries  off  and 
r»turn$  immediately,  leading  PEGGY  ;  she  has  been  crying) 
You  should  not  run  away  from  me,  because  you  are  mint 
now — all  mine.  He  has  given  you  to  me— to  keep  for  ever. 
He  means  it.  You  must  read  it  all  by-and-bye,  and  then 
you'll  say  with  me,  God  bless  him  1  Come,  look  me  in  th« 
eyes,  and  say  you  love  me.  Remember,  'tis  for  my  good. 

PEGGY,  (looking  up  timidly)  Need  I  say  it  ?  Saying  is  so 

hard,  but (she  pauses,  and  then  gently  puts  her  arm  round 

his  neck  ;  he  bends  to  kiss  her  ;  she  draws  back  timidly)  Would 
you  like  me  to  show  you  the  house  ? 

LOVELL.  May  you  ? 

PEGGY,  Yes,  1  may  now.  See,  here  are  the  keys.  I'm 
told  the  furniture  is  beautiful,  and  there's  ft (with  9 


66  MICE  AND  lOW. 

•leased  smile  and  lowered  voice)  There  la  a  harpsichord.  (JW 
her  hand,  and  together  they  enter  the  house) 

Enter  EMBURY  from  R.  ;  he  walks  slowly,  uith  hand* 
linked  behind  him  ;  as  he  reaches  the  house  the  harpsi- 
chord is  heard  playing  the  old  melody,  "  My  love  is  likt 
a  red,  red  rose  "  ;  he  halts  a  moment  and  then  listens, 
while  the  two  voices  take  up  the  refrain  and  finish  ihi 
verse  to  the  harpsichord  accompaniment ;  then  he  pro- 
ceeds on  his  way,  and  goes  slwdy  up  the  centre  path  j 
when  he  comes  to  the  little  wicket  gate,  he  passes  it  and 
closes  it  behind  him,  turns  and  facing  the  audience,  h* 
fastens  the  latch,  gives  one  more  ylance  at  the  cottage^ 
then  continues  along  the  path,  and  out  of  sight ; 
aifef  iny  is  till  heard  within  as  the  curtain 


or  PLAY, 


Syracuse,  N.  Y. 
Stockton,  Calif. 


